The night is dark, the waters deep, Yet soft the billows roll; Alas! at every breeze I weep — The storm is in my soul.
While Thee I seek, protecting Power, Be my vain wishes stilled; And may this consecrated hour With better hopes be filled.
No riches from his scanty store / My lover could impart; / He gave a boon I valued more - / He gave me all his heart!
