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 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,
still quakes and dreads the swelling tide.

4 There is a stream, whose gentle flow
makes glad the city of our God,
life, love, and joy, still gliding through,
refreshing our divine abode.

5 That sacred stream, your holy word,
our grief allays, our fear controls;
sweet peace your promises afford,
and give new strength to fainting souls.

6 Zion enjoys her Monarch's love,
steadfast against a threatening hour;
nor can her firm foundations move,
built on his truth and armed with power.