Psalms 46

Psalm 46 (1 of 3)

1 GOD is the refuge of His saints. When storms of sharp distress invade;

Ere we can offer our complaints, Behold Him present with His aid.

2 Let mountains from their seats be hurl'd Down to the deep, and buried there;

Convulsions shake the solid world, Our faith shall never yield to fear.

3 Loud may the troubled ocean roar, In sacred peace our souls abide;

While every nation, every shore, Trembles, and dreads the swelling tide.

4 There is a stream whose gentle flow Supplies the city of our God;

Life, love, and joy, still gliding through, And watering our divine abode.

5 That sacred stream, Thine holy Word, That all our raging fears controls:

Sweet peace Thy promises afford, And give new strength to fainting souls.

6 Sion enjoys her Monarch's love, Secure against a threat'ning hour; Nor can her firm foundations move, Built on His truth, and arm'd with power.

Isaac Watts, 1719.

Psalm 46 (2 of 3)

1 GOD is our refuge and our strength, In straits a present aid;

Therefore, although the earth remove, We will not be afraid.

2 Though hills amidst the seas be cast;

Though waters roaring make, And troubled be; yea, though the hills By swelling seas do shake.

3 A river is, whose streams do glad The city of our God; The holy place, wherein the Lord Most high hath His abode.

4 God in the midst of her doth dwell;

Nothing shall her remove: The Lord to her an helper will, And that right early, prove.

5 Our God, who is the Lord of hosts, Is still upon our side; The God of Jacob, our defence For ever will abide.

Scotch Version, 1641, a.

Psalm 46 (3 of 3)

1 GOD is our refuge, tried and proved, Amid a stormy world:

We will not fear though earth be moved, And hills in ocean hurl'd.

2 The waves may roar, the mountains shake, Our comforts shall not cease; The Lord His saints will not forsake; The Lord will give us peace.

3 A gentle stream of hope and love To us shall ever flow;

It issues from His throne above, It cheers His church below.

4 When earth and hell against us came, He spake, and quell'd their powers; The Lord of hosts is still the same, The God of grace is ours.

Henry Francis Lyte, 1834