I felt my soul was torn,
by the struggle raging within,
and of love my being was shorn,
as I gaze on the pleasures of sin.
Deep in my heart I pondered.
“Do I always struggle alone?”
“Am I like others?” I wondered,
“By life’s harsh blasts ever blown.”
Then passed like a flash,
through my memory,
a picture of Galilee.
I saw those fishermen,
weary battling a raging sea,
and I heard the voice of the Master,
with peace their souls instill,
dispel their fears of disaster,
and bid the wind and waves be still.
And now, mid the roaring tempest,
when Life’s storms break over my soul,
when round me all is darkness,
and lashing waters roll,
when the gales of passion would sway me,
then Master may I hear thee,
bid the storm in my heart be still.
W. E. O’Meara Sr.