Dear refuge of my weary soul,On thee, when sorrows rise,On thee, when waves of trouble roll,My fainting hope relies.

But, oh, when gloomy doubts prevail,I fear to call thee mine;The springs of comfort seem to fail,And all my hopes decline.Yet, gracious God, where shall I flee?Thou art my only trust;And still my soul would cleave to thee,Though prostrate in the dust.