when the dark waves round us roll

when the dark waves round us roll,
and we look in vain for aid,
speak, lord, to the trembling soul,
“it is i; be not afraid.”

when we dimly trace thy form
in mysterious clouds arrayed,
be the echo of the storm,
“it is i; be not afraid.”

when our brightest hopes depart,
when our fairest visions fade,
whisper to the fainting heart,
“it is i; be not afraid.”

when we weep beside the bier
where some well-loved form is laid,
o may then the mourner hear,
“it is i; be not afraid.”

when with wearing hopeless pain
sinks the spirit, sore dismayed,
breathe thou then the comfort-strain,
“it is i; be not afraid.”

when we feel the end is near,
passing into death’s dark shade,
may the voice be strong and clear,
“it is i; be not afraid.”