Entering the Fall

Thou art my Lord Who slept upon the pillow
Thou art my Lord Who calmed the furious sea;
What matter beating wind and tossing billow
If only we are in the boat with Thee?
Hold us in quiet though the age-long minute
While Thou art silent and the wind is shrill;
What boat can sink when Thou, dear Lord, are in it?
What heart can faint that resteth on Thy will?

(From Amy Carmichael’s Edges of His Ways)