When dark misfortune’s tide is up,
    Its surges running high,
If we have lost our hold on God,
    Where then for refuge fly?

Oppressed, desponding, near despair,
    Health, strength and courage fled,
These cheering words heed, “Brother, live!”
    And raise your sinking head.

Though anguish deep, and bitter grief
    Be felt and long be borne,
Abide the test; seek no relief
    That’s not from Heaven alone.

Deliverance must be found in God,
    A blessing to secure;
There is encouragement for those
    Who trials well endure.

In tribulation’s beaten path,
    The ancient prophets trod;
It is the only way that brings
    The wanderer home to God.

Let patience have its perfect work,
    Be purified and tried;
Be ready when the King shall come,
    To e’er with him abide.

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