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Verse 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.

Verse 2

Let mountains from their seats be hurled
Down to the deep, and buried there;
Convulsions shake the solid world;—
Our faith shall never yield to fear.

Verse 3

There is a stream, whose gentle flow
Supplies the city of our God;
Life, love, and joy still gliding through,
And watering our divine abode:—

Verse 4

That sacred stream, thy holy word,—
That all our raging fear controls:
Sweet peace thy promises afford,
And give new strength to fainting souls.