I mended my nets and cast them out,
The sea was full of fishes,
I pulled in a drought of silver fins,
Beyond my fondest wishes.

Had I not mended my wounded nets,
To home I might have come bare,
My children would go to bed hungry,
And my wife would say a prayer.

How wisely did I use my time,
Though some may think it odd,
That an old and weary fisherman,
Would listen to his God.

For twas He who bid me take the time,
To sew the broken line,
And He who sent the drought of fish,
Would send to me this sign.

My mended nets will yield me strength,
As God gives great increase,
And now I know how mercy works,
Which gives this old fisherman peace.