Roll out, O song to God! Move on, ye throngs of men! Chances and changes come and go; God changeth not! Amen. And on the throngs of men, On worrying care and strife, Sinks down, as if from angel tongues, The word of hope and life.
Down in the darksome ways And worrying whirl of life Sinks, like a strain of vesper song, The thought of His great strife; Who, of the virgin born, Made all our chains His own, And broke them with His own right arm, Nor left us more alone.
Amid the weak, One strong, Amid the false, One true, Amid all change, One changing not, One hope we ne’er shall rue. In Whose sight all is now, In Whose love all is best: The things of this world pass away, Come, let us in Him rest.
’Twixt gleams of joy and clouds of doubt our feelings come and go; Our daily state is tossed about in ceaseless ebb and flow. No mood of feeling, form of thought, is constant for a day; But Thou, O Lord, Thou changest not, the same Thou art alway.
Out of the weak, unquiet drift that comes but to depart, To that pure heaven my spirit lift where Thou unchanging art. Lay hold of me with Thy strong grasp, let Thine almighty arm In its embrace my weakness clasp, and I shall fear no harm.
Thy purpose of eternal good let me but surely know, On this I’ll lean—let changing mood and feeling come or go Glad when Thy sunshine fills my soul, nor sad when clouds overcast, Since Thou within Thy sure control of love dost hold me fast.