O there are hours so dark and dull,
That nought of earthly light can cheer;
Hours full of fear-and sorrowful-
When the worn spirit has no ear
For comfort, and its misery
Can find no solace but from Thee.
From Thee-whose eye is never closed
To mortal grief-how oft have I
Beneath Thy shelt'ring wing reposed
From suffering's storms, and tranquilly
Seen the clouds burst secure and free
From terror, harboured, Lord! by Thee!
By Thee-who, when Thy children press
To Thy kind presence, bid'st them come:
And, pleased to shield, and pleased to bless,
Art their defence-their port-their home:
Where, safe from gusts, their bark shall be
Anchored for ever, Lord! by Thee.