Dear refuge of my weary soul, On thee, when sorrows rise, On thee, when waves of trouble roll, My fainting hope relies.
But, oh, when gloomy doubts prevail, I fear to call thee mine; The springs of comfort seem to fail, And all my hopes decline. Yet, gracious God, where shall I flee? Thou art my only trust; And still my soul would cleave to thee, Though prostrate in the dust.
