God, our hope and strength abid­ing,
Soothes our dread, ex­ceed­ing nigh;
Fear we not the world sub­sid­ing,
Roots of mount­ains heav­ing high,
Darkly heav­ing,
Where in ocean’s heart they lie.

Let them roar, His aw­ful surg­es;
Let them boil—each dark-browed hill
Tremble, where the proud wave urg­es:
Here is yet one qui­et rill;
Her calm wa­ters,
Zion’s joy, flow clear and still.

Joy of God’s abode, the sta­tion
Where the Eter­nal fixed His tent:
God is there a strong sal­va­tion;
On her place she tow­ers un­bent.
God will aid her
Ere the stars of morn be spent.

Heathens rage, do­min­ions trem­ble,
God spake out, earth melts away:
God is where our hosts as­sem­ble,
Jacob’s God, our rock and stay.
Come, be­hold Him
O’er the wide earth wars al­lay.

Come, be­hold God’s work of won­der,
Scaring, wast­ing earth be­low;
How He knapped the spear in sun­der,
How He broke the war­ri­or’s bow.
Wild war cha­ri­ots
Burn be­fore Him, quenched as tow.

Silence—for the Al­migh­ty know Me;
O’er the hea­then throned am I,
Throned where earth must crouch be­low Me—
Lord of Hosts, we know Thee nigh:
God of Ja­cob,
Thou art still our rock on high.