HOPE, THE ANCHOR OF THE SOUL

A hope of salvation I have,
And though oft its is dash’d by the waves,
Firm anchore’d in him who can save,
Each tempestuous storm it outbraves;
My Pilot the Lord, my compass his word,
His grace for my sail, how can I then fail?

My cable is strong, for it is his great love,
Which from everlasting extends;
While his good Spirit in gales from above,
As he promised, in mercy, he sends;
Yet sometimes I fear, that when I draw near
To the heavenly coast, my bark will be lost.

For should I then see the rich land,
With its honey, its milk, and its wine,
It will bring my weak faith to a stand,
To believe that these blessings are mine;
And nearest the shore, where waves loudest roar,
I trembling may stand, though so near to the land.

Yet, Lord, thou canst grant me to leave,
When my hour for departure is come,
Some proof that a Saviour I have,
Who has lain before me in the tomb.
That path I’ll then tread, without gloom or dread,
And find it the way to the regions of day.

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W.P.