The Storm
The storm raged on, Waves crashing through the hull, The storm raged on, Sailors fearing death and hell. The storm raged on, They feel death approaching now, The storm raged on, But he was sleeping in the bow. He was running from The Almighty Who had spoken so clear. His calling, it was dangerous, But it was no that he feared. His anger burned hot and righteous, Like The Lord who'd said 'go!' But he did not have the same mercy For the Ninavites, so low. And the storm raged on... The storm raged on, Waves crashing through the hull, The storm raged on, Fishermen fearing death and hell. The storm raged on, They feel death approaching now, The storm raged on, But he was sleeping in the bow. He was the presence of The Almighty So he did not mind the waves. He had no fear of man or nature, Whom he had come to save. His anger burned hot and righteous, But his mercy burned hotter still,