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When storms arise And dark'ning skies About me threat'ning lower, To thee, O Lord, I raise mine eyes, To thee my tortured spirit flies For solace in that hour. The mighty arm Will let no harm Come near me nor befall me; Thy voice shall quiet my alarm, When life's great battle waxeth warm— No foeman shall appall me. Upon thy breast Secure I rest, From sorrow and vexation; No more by sinful cares oppressed, But in thy presence ever blest, O God of my salvation. |