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1 On Thee, great Ruler of the skies,
On Thee our steadfast hope relies;
When hostile powers against us join,
What aid so present, Lord, as Thine?
2 By Thee secured, no fears we own,
Though earth, convulsed, beneath us groan,
Though tempest o'er her surface sweep,
And whirl her hills into the deep;
3 Though, armed with rage, before our eyes
That deep in all its horrors rise,
While, as the tumult spreads around,
The mountains tremble at the sound.
4 Behold fair Sion's blest retreat,
Where God has fixed His awful seat;
Whose walls to heaven's almighty Lord
His chosen residence afford.
5 God, ever watchful, ever nigh,
Bids storms around her harmless fly;
His early care each foe withstands,
And backward turns the yielding bands.Source: The Book of Worship #405