I turn when afflicted with grief

To the joy which thy presence bestows;

When my pain is deprived of relief,

And my heart well nigh sinks with its woes:

I cry from the ends of the earth,

Unto Thee, O my God, do I cry,

For help from the flood to come forth

To the Rock that is higher than I.

When foes to assault me unite,

As wild torrents when swollen with rain,

And hide from my spirit thy light,

Deriding my bitterest pain;

I call on the Father of love,

Who for sinners gave Jesus to die,

In mercy my feet to remove

To the Rock that is higher than I.

Amid Jordan’s boisterous stream,

When the roar of the tempest is high,

I’ll sing of his might to redeem,—

Of the Rock that is higher than I:

I’ll triumph o’er death and the grave,

The proud legions of darkness defy—

The foam my firm foot shall just lave

On the Rock that is higher than I.

When far o’er all grief I ascend

To the souls who survive every shock,

Whose path that sweet stream did attend

Which flowed forth from their famed smitten Rock:

With millions who sing grateful lays,

When their anthems encircle the sky,

My voice shall unite in the praise

For the Rock that is higher than I.