Tho’ the angry surges roll

Tho’ the angry surges roll
On my tempest driven soul,
I am peaceful, for I know,
Wildly tho’ the winds may blow,
I’ve an anchor safe and sure,
That can evermore endure!

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!

Troubles almost ’whelm the soul,
Griefs like billows o’er me roll,
Tempters seek to lure astray,
Storms obscure the light of day;
I can face them and be bold,
I’ve an anchor that shall hold!

Refrain
And it holds, my anchor holds;
Blow your wildest, then, O gale,
On my bark so small and frail,
I shall never, never fail;
For my anchor holds, my anchor holds!
     W. C. Martin