Classic Poem

Our refuge is the Lord, Most High,
A help in trouble ever nigh;
The earth may quake, the mountains rock,
But we unmov'd will stand the shock.

There is a stream of copious grace,
It cheers Jehovah's dwelling place —
The place where God delights to dwell,
And vain are all th' assaults of hell.

The world's alarm'd, and fill'd with dread;
Jehovah speaks — the earth hath fled;
Jehovah, God of hosts, appears,
For our defence, to quell our fears.

Come, see Jehovah's mighty deeds!
When he is wroth, creation bleeds;
He breaks in pieces spear and bow,
And lays the proud oppressor low.

Be still, and know that he is God,
All nature heeds his awful nod;
This God of hosts, our God, appears,
For our defence, to quell our fears.