Storms gather o’er thy path,
Christian!–the sullen, tempest-darkened sky
Grows lurid with the elemental wrath,–
Say, whither wilt thou fly?
God is my Refuge!–let the tempests come,
They will but speed me sooner to my home!
Night lowers in sullen gloom,
Christian!–a long, dark night awaiteth thee,
Dreary as Egypt’s night of fear and doom,–
Where will thy hiding be?
God is my refuge!–in the dreary night
In Him I dwell, and have abundant light!
Thine is a lonely way,
Christian!–and dangers all thy path infest;
Pitfalls and snares crowd all thy doubtful way,–
Where is thy place of rest?
God is my Refuge!–safe in Him I move,
And feel no fear, kept by sustaining Love.
The grave–that dreary place,
Christian, the lonely dwelling in the dust
Awaits thee; ’tis the doom of all thy race,–
Where, then, shall be thy trust?
God is my refuge! Sweet will be my rest
On the dear pillow that my Saviour pressed!
Alas!–that dreamless sleep–
Christian, its chains are strong, and hard to break;
All thy belov’d sleep on in silence deep,
And dost thou hope to wake?
God is my refuge! I shall wake and sing–
“O grave! where is thy vict’ry?–death thy sting?”