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, That all our raging fear controls: 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 pow'r.