The teeming host pressed onward still,
From Misraim's land of blood and grief,
Forgetting all the bitter ill,
In thinking of the sweet relief:
See Moses raise that mystic rod,
Before united Israel's view,
The waters saw Thee, then , oh God,
And let Thy ransomed people through.

The priestly band to Jordan sped,
Bearing their hallowed burden still,
And back the sever'd waters fled,
And on they press'd to Zion's hill:
Forth marched that army in its might,
A band of joyous, shouting men,
The promised land was in their sight,
Oh God, the waters saw Thee then .

Beside the Jordan's verdant shore,
I see my lowly Saviour stand,
Receiving (He whom saints adore,)
The baptism of His creature's hand;
The mystic dove alights in air,
The Father's voice declares his Son,
Oh God, the waters saw Thee there,
When once that hallowed rite was done.

A walking form is on the wave,
His mien is high, and stern His glance,
The sea must surely prove His grave,
Who dares so reckless thus advance;
He treads the main like grassy sod,
With step as light, with gait as free,
For oh, those waters saw a God,
Those darkling waves of Galilee.

Soon from a world of woe like this,
My heart must turn its thoughts aside,
But ere I gain the shore of bliss,
With Jesus must I stem the tide;
Redeemer, God, be with me there,
Impart Thy saving health and grace,
No sting I feel — I own no care,
If Death's cold waters view Thy face .