25. 11s. M. Edmeston. The House of God.

1 There's a refuge of peace from the tempests that beat, From the dark clouds that threaten, the wild wind that blows; A holy, a sweet and a lovely retreat,
A spring of refreshment, a place of repose.

2 'Tis the house of my God, 'tis the dwelling of prayer, The temple all hallowed by blessing and praise;
If sorrow and faithlessness conquer me, there
My heart to the throne of his grace I can raise.

3 For a refuge like this, ah, what praises are due! For a rest so serene, for a covert so fair:
Ah, why are the seasons of worship so few?
And why are so seldom the meetings of prayer?