The Moravians Who Sang Through the Storm

On January 25, 1736, a violent storm tore across the Atlantic, splitting the mainsail of the ship Simmonds and sending waves crashing over the deck. Among the passengers was a young Anglican minister named John Wesley, gripped with terror, certain the vessel would sink. He later confessed in his journal that he was "unwilling to die."

But in the lower deck, a small group of Moravian Christians — German refugees who had already lost homes and homeland — were singing hymns. As the ocean roared and the ship lurched, their voices never wavered. Wesley watched, astonished. Women held their children and sang. Men bowed their heads in prayer as seawater poured through the planks. When Wesley asked one of them afterward if they had been afraid, the man replied simply, "No. Our women and children are not afraid to die."

That moment haunted Wesley for years. These believers possessed something he did not — a stillness rooted not in circumstance but in the unshakable presence of the Almighty.

This is the faith the psalmist declares: "God is within her, she will not fall." When the earth gives way, when the waters roar and foam, when kingdoms collapse around us, the Most High does not pace or panic. He speaks, and the earth melts. He makes wars cease. And His people, anchored in that presence, can sing even when the ship is breaking apart.