What can death's poison do to me?
Thy blood to me life giveth,
And when the sun burns fervently,
With grateful shade relieveth;
And when with sorrow sore oppress'd
I ever find in it my rest,
As sick men on their pillows.
My anchor art Thou, when my skies
Are clouded o'er, and tempests rise,
My bark 'whelm in the billows.