As some tall rock amidst the waves,
The fu­ry of the tem­pest braves;
While fierce the bil­lows, toil­ing high,
Break at its foot and mur­mur­ing die:

Thus they, who in the Lord con­fide,
Though foes as­sault on ev­ery side;
Cannot be moved or ov­er­thrown,
For Je­sus makes their cause His own.

So faith­ful Ste­phen, un­dis­mayed,
The mal­ice of the Jews sur­veyed;
The ho­ly joy which filled his breast
A lus­ter on his face im­pressed.

Behold! he said, the world of light
Is op­ened to my strength­ened sight;
My glo­ri­ous Lord app­ears in view,
That Je­sus, whom ye late­ly slew.

With such a friend and wit­ness near,
No form of death could make him fear;
Calm, midst the show­er of stones, he kneels,
And on­ly for his mur­der­ers feels.

May we, by faith, pe­rceive Thee thus,
Dear Sav­ior, ev­er near to us!
This fight, through life, our peace shall keep,
And death be feared no more than sleep.