Hymn 44

1GOD is the refuge of his saints,
When storms of sharp distress invade ;
Ere we can offer our complaints,
Behold him present with his aid.

2Lord may the troubled ocean roar ;
In sacred peace our souls abide ;
While every nation, every shore,
Trembles and dreads the swelling tide.

3There is a stream whose gentle flow
Supplies the city of our God ;
Life, love, and joy, still gliding through,
And watering our divine abode.

4Zion enjoys her Monarch's love,
Secure against a threatening hour ;
Nor can her firm foundation move,
Built on his truth and armed with power.