Hymn
When storms ariseAnd dark’ning skiesAbout me threat’ning lower,To thee, O Lord, I raise mine eyes,To thee my tortured spirit fliesFor solace in that hour.
The mighty armWill let no harmCome near me nor befall me;Thy voice shall quiet my alarm,When life’s great battle waxeth warm—No foeman shall appall me.
Upon thy breastSecure I rest,From sorrow and vexation;No more by sinful cares oppressed,But in thy presence ever blest,O God of my salvation.