Saturday Synaxis

 

Great Ruler of all nature's frame, we own Thy pow'r divine:

We hear Thy breath in every storm, for all the winds are Thine.

Thy mercy tempers every blast to them that seek Thy face;

And mingles with the tempest's roar the whispers of Thy grace.

Those gentle whispers let me hear, till all the tumult cease;

And gales of paradise shall lull my weary soul to peace.

- Philip Doddridge