Words: Thomas T. Lynch, The Rivulet (London: Robert Theobald, 1855), pages 45–46.
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Thou shalt not doubt the King most high,
Whose glory is creation’s good:
Sunlike His beams of majesty
The storming ages have withstood.
The pillars of eternal right
Who from their rocky hold can wrench?
The flame of the eternal light
What gloom can hide, what wind can quench?
Thou shalt not doubt the awful King;
Glory is His, but terror, too;
The rebel storms their homage bring,
And bow their pride His will to do.
If darkness is His judgment-dress,
His sunny robes He will resume;
Unfailing He returns to bless,
Like daybreak from the midnight’s tomb.
Thou shalt not doubt eternal God;
Mercy upholds His stately throne;
He wins creation’s heart by blood;
Our blood it is, and yet His own.
O solemn and consoling sign!
Wilt thou be saved? He save thee will.
Thy blood was His; then His is thine;
He in thee will thine hope fulfill.