1 God is the refuge of His saints,
When storms of deep distress invade,
Ere we can offer our complaints,
Behold Him present with His aid.

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.

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 'Midst storms and tempests, Lord, Thy word
Does every rising fear control;
Sweet peace Thy promises afford,
And well sustain the fainting soul.

Amen.