1 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."
2 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."
3 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.