609. C. M. Cotton.
God, the Refuge of the Afflicted.
1Affliction is a stormy deep,
Where wave resounds to wave;
Though o'er our heads the billows roll,
We know the Lord can save.
2When darkness and when sorrows rose,
And pressed on every side,
The Lord hath still sustained our steps,
And still hath been our Guide.
3Perhaps, before the morning dawn,
He will restore our peace;
For he who bade the tempest roar,
Can bid the tempest cease.
4Here will we rest, here build our hopes,
Nor murmur at his rod;
He's more to us than all the world,
Our Health, our Life, our God.