MY ANCHOR HOLDS

Though the angry surges roll

On my tempest-driven soul,

I am peaceful, for I know,

Wildly though the winds may blow,

I've an anchor safe and sure,

That can evermore endure.


And it holds, my anchor holds;

Blow your wildest then, O gale,

On my bark so small and frail:

By his grace I shall not fail,

For my anchor holds, my anchor holds.


Mighty tides about me sweep,

Perils lurk within the deep,

Angry clouds o'ershade the sky,

And the tempest rises high;

Still I stand the tempest's shock,

For my anchor grips the Rock.


I can feel the anchor fast

As I meet each sudden blast,

And the cable, though unseen,

Bears the heavy strain between;

Through the storm I safely ride,

Till the turning of the tide.


Troubles almost 'whelm the soul;

Griefs like billows o'er me roll;

Tempters seek to lure astray;

Storms obscure the light of day:

But in Christ I can be bold,

I've an anchor that shall hold.