Thou Very Present Aid

Thou ve­ry pre­sent aid

In suf­fer­ing and dis­tress

The soul which still on Thee is stayed

Is kept in per­fect peace.

The soul by faith re­clined

On His Re­deem­er’s breast

Midst rag­ing storms ex­ults to find

An ev­er­last­ing rest.

Sorrow and fear are gone

Whene’er Thy face ap­pears

It stills the sigh­ing or­phan’s moan

And dries the wi­dow’s tears.

It hal­lows ev­ery cross

It sweet­ly com­forts me

And makes me now for­get my loss;

And lose my­self in Thee.

Peace to the trou­bled heart

Health to the sin-sick mind

The wound­ed spir­it’s balm Thou art

The Heal­er of man­kind.

In deep af­flict­ion blest

With Thee I mount above

And sing

tri­umph­ant­ly dis­tressed

Thine all-suf­fi­cient love.

Jesus

to whom I fly

Doth all my wish­es fill

In vain the crea­ture-streams are dry

I have the Fount­ain still.

Stripped of my earth­ly friends

I find them all in One

And peace and joy that nev­er ends

And Heav­en

in Christ alone!