Words: , in The Sail­or’s Mag­a­zine (1871) and The Bap­tist Praise Book (1871). The nau­ti­cal theme re­flects Hop­per’s min­is­try at the Church of the Sea and Land in New York Ci­ty, where he met sail­ors from around the world.

Music: Pilot, , 1871. Al­ter­nate tune:

Major told me the fol­low­ing in­ci­dent in con­nec­tion with this hymn: “I went with Gen­er­al O. O. How­ard to hold meet­ings for the sol­diers at Tam­pa, Flor­i­da, and one day while go­ing through the camp I found a young man dy­ing of fe­ver. I knelt by his side and asked him if he was a Christ­ian. He re­plied that he was not, but said that his fa­ther and mo­ther were Christ­ians; and he asked me to pray for him. I did so, but no deep im­pres­sion was made up­on his heart. I went away with a sor­row­ing heart and prom­ised to re­turn ano­ther day. Two days lat­er I vi­sit­ed him again and, pray­ing with him, the Lord put in­to my mind to sing, ‘Je­sus, Sav­iour, pi­lot me.’ The dy­ing sol­dier said: ‘Oh, that sounds good; it puts me in mind of my be­lov­ed sis­ter in Mi­chi­gan, who used to sing this hymn for me be­fore I en­tered the ar­my.’ He want­ed me to re­peat it over and over again for him, and fi­nal­ly he asked: ‘Will Je­sus be my pi­lot in­to the ha­ven of rest?’ I told the young man that Je­sus would. ‘Then,’ he said, ‘I will trust him with all my heart.’ The next day I called to see him again, but his com­rade said: ‘He passed away dur­ing the night.’”

Jesus, Savior, pilot me
Over life’s tempestuous sea;
Unknown waves before me roll,
Hiding rock and treacherous shoal.
Chart and compass come from Thee;
Jesus, Savior, pilot me.

While th’Apostles’ fragile bark
Struggled with the billows dark,
On the stormy Galilee,
Thou didst walk upon the sea;
And when they beheld Thy form,
Safe they glided through the storm.

Though the sea be smooth and bright,
Sparkling with the stars of night,
And my ship’s path be ablaze
With the light of halcyon days,
Still I know my need of Thee;
Jesus, Savior, pilot me.

When the darkling heavens frown,
And the wrathful winds come down,
And the fierce waves, tossed on high,
Lash themselves against the sky,
Jesus, Savior, pilot me,
Over life’s tempestuous sea.

As a mother stills her child,
Thou canst hush the ocean wild;
Boisterous waves obey Thy will,
When Thou sayest to them, “Be still!”
Wondrous Sovereign of the sea,
Jesus, Savior, pilot me.

When at last I near the shore,
And the fearful breakers roar
’Twixt me and the peaceful rest,
Then, while leaning on Thy breast,
May I hear Thee say to me,
“Fear not, I will pilot thee.”