Scripture Verse

He only is my rock and my salvation; He is my defense; I shall not be greatly moved. Psalm 62:2


Catherine Winkworth (1827–1878)

Words: Au­gust H. Francke, 1711 (Was von Aus­sen und von In­nen). Trans­lat­ed from Ger­man to Eng­lish by Ca­the­rine Wink­worth, Ly­ra Ger­ma­ni­ca (Lon­don & New York: George Newnes & Charles Scrib­ner’s Sons, 1855), pag­es 97–99.

Music: Ma­drid (Carr) tra­di­tion­al Spa­nish tune. Ar­ranged by Ben­ja­min Carr, 1824 (🔊 pdf nwc).

Alternate Tunes:

Benjamin Carr (1768–1831)

A fine hymn of trust in God, found­ed on Ps. lxii. 5–8. Wri­tten in me­mo­ry of Ele­onore, née Ku­bitz, wife of J. H. Mi­chael­is, pro­fess­or at Hal­le, and ap­pend­ed to the fun­er­al ser­mon preached by Francke on Ps. lxii 2, in St. George’s Church, Glau­cha, Nov. 1, 1711. Inc­luded as No. 500 in Frey­ling­hau­sen’s Neu­es geist­reich­es G. B., 1774, in 9 st. of 8 l., and re­cent­ly as No. 2250 in Knapp’s Ev. L. S., 1837 (1865, No. 1997).

Julian, p. 389


What with­in me and with­out,
Hourly on my spir­it weighs,
Burdening heart and soul with doubt,
Darkening all my wea­ry days:
In it I be­hold Thy will,
God, who giv­est rest and peace,
And my heart is calm and still,
Waiting till Thou send re­lease.

God! Thou art my rock of strength,
And my home is in Thine arms,
Thou wilt send me help at length,
And I feel no wild alarms.
Sin nor death can pierce the shield
Thy de­fense has o’er me thrown,
Up to Thee my­self I yield,
And my sor­rows are Thine own.

Thou my shel­ter from the blast,
Thou my strong de­fense art ev­er;
Though my sor­rows thick­en fast,
Yet I know Thou leav’st me ne­ver;
When my foe puts forth his might,
And would tread me in the dust,
To this rock I take my flight,
And I con­quer him through trust.

When my tri­als tar­ry long,
Unto Thee I look and wait,
Knowing none, though keen and strong,
Can my faith in Thee abate,
And this faith I long have nursed,
Comes alone, O God, from Thee;
Thou my heart didst op­en first,
Thou didst set this hope in me.

Christians, cast on Him your load,
To your tow­er of re­fuge fly;
Know He is the liv­ing God,
Ever to His crea­tures nigh.
Seek His ever op­en door
In your hours of ut­most need;
All your hearts be­fore Him pour,
He will send you help with speed.

But hast thou some dar­ling plan,
Cleaving to the things of earth?
Leanest thou for aid on man?
Thou wilt find him no­thing worth.
Rather trust the One alone
Whose is end­less pow­er and love,
And the help He gives His own,
Thou in ve­ry deed shalt prove.

Yea, on Thee, my God, I rest,
Letting life float calm­ly on,
For I know the last is best,
When the crown of joy is won.
In Thy might all things I bear,
In Thy love find bit­ters sweet,
And with all my grief and care
Sit in pa­tience at Thy feet.

O my soul, why art thou vexed?
Let things go as e’en they will;
Though to thee they seem per­plexed,
Yet His or­der they ful­fill.
Here He is thy strength and guard,
Power to harm thee here has none;
Yonder will He each re­ward
For the works he here has done.

Let Thy mer­cy’s wings be spread
O’er me, keep me close to Thee,
In the peace Thy love doth shed,
Let me dwell eter­nal­ly.
Be my All; in all I do
Let me on­ly seek Thy will,
Where the heart to Thee is true,
All is peace­ful, calm, and still.