1 Jehovah built the earth and skies,
What cannot He with ease per­form?
To Him my anx­ious spi­rit flies,
To find a re­fuge in the storm.

2 He formed my bo­dy from the dust,
Will raise it from the dust again;
In Him I firm­ly place my trust,
Nor will He let me trust in vain.

3 He gave His Son, His on­ly Son,
To bear my sins, to bleed and die;
And will He now to souls un­done,
All other need­ful good de­ny?

4 When sor­rows ov­er­whelm my soul,
I call up­on His ho­ly name;
And soon the bil­lows cease to roll,
Or He sup­ports my fee­ble frame.