Save us Lord, we are going down.
Why are you so frightened you men of little faith?
Can we not treat each moment as a new dawn?
Its rays a gossamer hope filled wraith.

Why fret over an unknown future?
Why regret a too well-known past?
Worrying will not change mere conjecture.
Shame will not alter what is passed.

The storm itself will decide whether to abate.
And the wind of its own accord buffet us more or forbear.
Our worry of itself will not it sate.
Perhaps our saviour is asleep and will not hear.

But if we see ourselves at the tranquil centre of the wind.
We can in just this moment our worries hope to rescind.