My Refuge (Wood)

To the rock flies the co­ny

the stork to her nest

When tem­pests are ga­ther­ing and black is the west;

So swift

by life’s tri­als o’er­whelmed and op­pressed

I fly to my re­fuge

Je­ho­vah

my rest!

The nest

whi­ther speed­eth the storm beat­en bird

Aloft

on the fir top by tem­pests is stirred;

But the nest of my re­fuge no storm wind can smite;

’Tis the breast of Je­ho­vah; I’m safe from afright.

The rock where the co­ny se­cure­ly may hide

Is set in the mount­ain’s cold

pi­ti­less side;

But the rock of my safe­ty

the home of my quest

’Tis the heart of my Sav­ior: How warm and how blest!

Then blow

thou wild tem­pest

I fear not thy might

Tho’ black­ly thou low­er­est

my pro­spect is bright;

Jehovah

my Sav­ior

I fly to Thy breast;

Dear rock of my re­fuge! Dear shel­ter­ing nest!