Some of John Newton's rhymes are dreadful

Begone, unbelief;
my Saviour is near,
and for my relief
will surely appear;
by prayer let me wrestle,
and he will perform;
with Christ in the vessel,
I smile at the storm.

Though dark be my way,
since he is my guide,
'tis mine to obey,
'tis his to provide;
though cisterns be broken
and creatures all fail,
the word he has spoken
shall surely prevail.

His love in time past
forbids me to think
he'll leave me at last
in trouble to sink;
while each Ebenezer
I have in review
confirms his good pleasure
to help me quite through.

Why should I complain
of want or distress,
temptation or pain?
He told me no less;
the heirs of salvation,
I know from his word,
through much tribulation
must follow their Lord.

How bitter that cup,
no heart can conceive,
which he drank right up
that sinners might live;
his way was much rougher
and darker than mine;
did Jesus thus suffer,
and shall I repine?

Since all that I meet
shall work for my good,
the bitter is sweet,
the med'cine is food;
though painful at present,
'twill cease before long;
and then, O how pleasant
the conqueror's song!