Lord, soothe my anxious, troubled soul, And bid its doubting cease, Speak to the crested waves that roll, To sink in quiet peace; And bring me to a place of rest, A haven calm and still, Where every soul by sin distressed, May dwell secure from ill.
Ah! Thou wert once, my Blessed Lord, By surging waters pressed, But Thou didst speak th' almighty word And laidst them still at rest; And 'gainst Thy soul the wrath of sin Its tempest fury cast, But Thou didst stand, serene within, Till all the storm had passed.
O Christ, the hiding-place of those Who face the blinding blast, And battle with a myriad woes That sweep in fury past; Be Thou my comfort and defence, While storm fiends wildly cry,-- My star of hope when night is dense, And dangers round me lie.
Surpassing great the gift of God To erring mortals given, A way that, from their dark abode, Leads to the light of heaven.
O Christ Who art the living way, Plant Thou my feet therein, And lead me lest I go astray In luring paths of sin.
Too long I've found a sad delight In wandering from Thy care, Nor feared the sudden fall of night, The darkness, and the snare.
O Jesus Christ, to Thee my soul In conscious weakness clings; Teach me to seek the kind control That peace and safety brings.
And lead me upwards day by day, Till, night and danger past, I reach by Thee the living way, The Father's house at last.
My hope is firmly set On Him Whose truth abides; The lights of earth may fade and die, The hopes of earth despairing fly,-- No fear my heart betides.
My love its ardour finds In Him Whose love is strong, Who bought me with a price untold, More than of silver or of gold, And fills my heart with song.
My peace its calm attains In Him Whose power defends; My foes may sound a loud alarm, I trust securely in the arm He for my succour lends.
My joy its gladness sings In notes His voice awakes,-- A joy no effort can attain, That thrills alike in loss and gain, And when the world forsakes.
Thou Christ art all I need, Of all my bliss the spring; More fulness in Thy grace is found, Than when the corn and wine abound, And all the world can bring.
The time is drawing near, It cannot tarry long, When they who face the conflict here, Shall join the glorious throng,