Dear refuge of my weary soul

Dear refuge of my weary soul,
on Thee when Sorrows rise,
on Thee when waves of trouble roll
My fainting hope relies
To Thee I tell each rising grief, for Thou alone
Canst heal, Thy Word can bring a sweet relief
For every pain I feel

But oh! When gloomy doubts prevail, I fear to
Call Thee mine, the springs of comfort seem to fail
And all my hopes decline
Yet gracious God where shall I flee? Thou art my
Only trust and still my soul would cleave to Thee
Though prostrate in the dust

Hast Thou not bid me seek Thy face and shall I
Seek in vain? And can the ear of sovereign grace
Be deaf when I complain? No, still the ear of
Sovereign grace attends the mourner's prayer
Oh may I ever find access to breathe my sorrows there

Thy mercy seat is open still, here let my soul retreat
With humble hope attend Thy will and wait beneath Thy feet
Thy mercy seat is open still, here let my soul retreat
With humble hope attend Thy will and wait beneath Thy feet.

- Words by Anne Steele -