When The Tempest Gathers Round Me And Th

When the tempest gathers round me,
And the sea is dashed to foam,
When the lightnings flash above me,
And the thunder shakes the dome:
‘Mid the fierce and wild commotion,
While the raging billows toss,
Comes to me a gentle whisper:
“There is shelter near the cross.”

When the waves are madly dashing,
And the darkness veils the skies,
When in wild despair and anguish,
Burning teardrops blind my eyes:
From afar, beyond the ocean,
Tho’ the billows wildly toss,
Comes to me in sweetest accents,
“There is shelter near the cross.”

As the morning light approaches,
Slowly disappears the night,
Bright across the foaming billows,
Gleams the steadfast beacon light;
Soon I’ll reach the crystal harbor,
Purified from sin and dross,
Where my soul shall rest forever,
In the shelter near the cross.