1 God is the refuge of his saints,
When storms of sharp distress invade;
Ere we can offer our complaints,
Behold him present with his aid.
2 Let mountains from their seats be hurl'd
Down to the deep, and buried there,
Convulsions shake the solid world,
Our faith shall never yield to fear.
3 Loud may the troubled ocean roar,
In sacred peace our souls abide,
While every nation, every shore,
Trembles, and dreads the swelling tide.
4 There is a stream, whose gentle flow
Supplies the city of our GOD!
Life, love and joy, still gliding thro'
And watering our divine abode.
5 That sacred stream, thine holy word,
Supports our faith, our fear controuls;
Sweet peace thy promises afford,
And give new strength to fainting souls.
6 Sion enjoys her monarch’s Love,
Secure against a threatening hour;
Nor can her firm foundations move,
Built on his truth and arm'd with power.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | God is the refuge of his saints |
Title: | The Church's Safety and Triumph among National Desolations |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1785 |
Scripture: |