When shaking, Lord, I often run
To powers I can see.
But on this earth there is not one
With power like to thee.
You steady toppling kingdoms far
And calm upheaval near.
Your plan includes the distant star
And all on earth that’s dear.
But still I fret when troubles mount,
I trust what I can touch
And never go to crimson fount
Where love flows ever much.
I scratch and claw the dirty ground
And build an idol fair,
A god in whom is no life found—
It’s mute without a care.
At other times my trust I place
In friends I’ve come to love,
But human love cannot replace
The Father’s holy dove.
It can’t replace his mighty hand
That strikes the evil foe
And brings his peace throughout the land
To those that love him so.
Help me, my Lord, when troubles rise
To trust in you alone,
And teach me, Lord, to raise my eyes
Through trials to your throne.
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