Anne Steele

“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.”

“Dear refuge of my weary soul,On thee, when sorrows rise,On thee, when waves of trouble roll,My fainting hope relies.”