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The Lord Our Refuge

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Review and Herald Publishing Association · Washington, D.C. · Oct 15, 1903

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 80, No. 41.

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The Lord Our Refuge

By William Brickey

WILLIAM BRICKEY
WHEN my heart, like a bulrush, is bowed down with grief, Whither, Lord, should I go but to thee for relief? Thou hast portioned my lot, but my load is so great, That my soul seems to faint, as I carry its weight! When friends turn away with disdain from my door, And seek not my presence because I am poor, When brethren and sisters are deaf to my plea, Whither, Lord, can I go for relief but to thee?
When the rod of chastisement falls heavily down, And I’m bruised from the sole of my foot to my crown, When the earth seems like iron, and heaven seems like brass, O, where else could I go when this cometh to pass? For the powers of the universe move at thy will, And thy mandates the angels are quick to fulfil; Lord, send them with comfort and peace unto me, As with heart-rending anguish I turn unto thee.
When my heart strings are wrenched till the sobs choke my breath, When I walk through the valley and shadow of death, When dark clouds overshade all the sun in my skies, Let me turn to my God with my heart-rending sighs.
When Satan’s foul touch blights my soul with decay, Till my form has grown bent, and my hair turneth gray; As I lean on my staff, Lord, my prayer still shall be, Let my last tottering step bring me nearer to thee.