1 Dear Refuge of my weary soul,
On Thee when sorrows rise,
On Thee, when waves of trouble roll,
My fainting hope relies.

2 To Thee I tell each rising grief,
For Thou alone canst heal;
Thy word can bring a sweet relief
For ev'ry pain I feel.

3 But, oh! when gloomy doubts prevail,
I fear to call Thee mine;
The springs of comfort seem to fail.
And all my hopes decline.

4 Yet, gracious God, where shall I flee?
Thou art my only trust;
And still my soul would cleave to Thee,
Though prostrate in the dust.