- 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.
- Loud may the troubled ocean roar;
In sacred peace our souls abide;
While every nation, every shore,
Trembles, and dreads the swelling tide.
- That sacred stream—Thy holy Word—
That all our raging fear controls;
Sweet peace Thy promises afford,
And give new strength to fainting souls. Amin.