Notice the specific image — “reeled and staggered like drunkards” — this isn't polished, composed fear. It's disoriented, undignified panic, “at their wits' end,” meaning every strategy had already failed. The psalm doesn't skip past that indignity to get to the miracle faster. It names exactly how undone they were. And the resolution isn't just “storm stopped” — it's “guided them to their desired haven.” The point wasn't only survival; it was arrival somewhere they actually wanted to be. The story doesn't end at “the danger passed.” It ends at “you got exactly where you were trying to go.”