1 God is the Refuge of his Saints,
When Storms of sharp Distress invade
E'er we can offer our Complaints,
Behold him present with his Aid.

2 Let Mountains from their Seats be hurl'd
Down to the Deep, and buried there;
Convulsions shake the solid World,
Our Faith shall never yield to Fear.

3 Loud may the troubl'd Ocean roar,
In sacred Peace our Souls abide,
While ev'ry Nation, ev'ry Shore,
Trembles, and dreads the swelling Tide.

4 There is a Stream, whose gentle Flow
Supplies the City of our GOD;
Life, Love, and Joy still gliding through,
And wat'ring our divine Abode.

5 That sacred Stream, thine holy Word,
That all our raging Fear controuls:
Sweet Peace thy Promises afford,
And give new Strength to fainting Souls.

6 Sion enjoys her Monarch's Love,
Secure against a threat'ning Hour;
Nor can her firm Foundations move,
Built on his Truth, and arm'd with Pow'r.