Dear Refuge

Sometimes life can be summed up in a few lines of an old hymn.

Dear refuge of my weary soul
On Thee, when sorrows rise
On Thee, when waves of trouble roll
My fainting hope relies.

To Thee I tell each rising grief
For thou alone canst heal
Thy Word can bring a sweet relief
For every pain I feel.

But oh! When gloomy doubts prevail
I fear to call Thee mine;
The springs of comfort seem to fail
And all my hopes decline.

But gracious God! Where shall I flee?
Thou art my only trust -
And still my soul would cleave to Thee
Though prostrate in the dust.

Hast Thou not bid me seek Thy face?
And shall I seek in vain?
And can the ear of sovereign grace
Been deaf when I complain?
No, still the ear of sovereign grace
Attends the mourner's prayer -
Oh may I ever find access
To breathe my sorrows there.

Thy mercy seat is open still
Here let my soul retreat
With humble hope attend Thy will -
And wait beneath Thy feet.

-Anne Steele