609. C. M. Cotton. God, the Refuge of the Afflicted.
1 Affliction is a stormy deep,
Where wave resounds to wave;
Though o'er our heads the billows roll,
We know the Lord can save.
2 When darkness and when sorrows rose,
And pressed on every side,
The Lord hath still sustained our steps,
And still hath been our Guide.
3 Perhaps, before the morning dawn,
He will restore our peace;
For he who bade the tempest roar,
Can bid the tempest cease.
4 Here 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.