God is the refuge of his saints,

When storms of sharp distress invade;

Ere we can offer our complaints,

Behold him present with his aid.

2 Let mountains from their seats be hurled

Down to the deep, and buried there;

Convulsions shake the solid world;

Our faith shall never yield to fear.

3 Zion enjoys her monarch’s love,

Secure against a threatening hour;

Nor can her firm foundations move,

Built on his truth, and armed with power.