LIK’ souls a-toss'd at sea I bore

Sad strokes o’ trial, shock by shock,

An’ now, lik’ souls a-cast ashore

To rest upon the beäten rock,

I still do seem to hear the sound

O’ weäves that drove me vrom my track,

An’ zee my strugglèn hopes a-drown'd,

An’ all my jaÿs a-floated back. joys

By storms a-toss'd, I'll gi'e God praïse, give

Wi’ much a-lost I still ha’ jaÿs.

My peace is rest, my faïth is hope,

An’ freedom's my unbounded scope.

Vor faïth mid blunt the sting o’ fear, may

An’ peace the pangs ov ills a-vound,

An’ freedom vlee vrom evils near, fly

Wi’ wings to vwold on other ground. fold

Wi’ much a-lost, my loss is small,

Vor though ov e'thly goods bereft, earthly

A thousand times well worth em all

Be they good blessèns now a-left.

What e'th do own, to e'th mid vall, earth

But what's my own my own I'll call,

My faïth, an’ peäce, the gifts o’ greäce,

An’ freedom still to shift my pleäce.

When I've a-had a tree to screen

My meal-rest vrom the high zunn'd-sky,

Or ivy-holdèn wall between

My head an’ win's a-rustlèn by,

I had noo call vor han's to bring

Their seäv'ry daïnties at my nod, savoury

But stoop'd a-drinkèn vrom the spring,

An’ took my meal, wi’ thanks to God,

Wi’ faïth to keep me free o’ dread,

An’ peäce to sleep wi’ steadvast head,

An’ freedom's hands, an’ veet unbound

To woone man's work, or woone seäme ground.