Scripture Verse

We will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling. Psalm 46:2–3

Introduction

Words: Charles Wes­ley, Hymns Oc­ca­sioned by the Earth­quake, March 8, 1750, Part 2 (Lon­don: Stra­han, 1750), num­ber 9.

Music: Cal­va­ry (Tur­vey) Tho­mas Tur­vey, in the Me­tho­dist Hymn and Tune Book (To­ron­to, Ca­na­da: Me­tho­dist Book & Pub­lish­ing House, 1894), num­ber 325 (🔊 pdf nwc).

If you know where to get a good pic­ture of Tur­vey (head & shoul­ders, at least 200×300 pix­els),

portrait
Charles Wesley (1707–1788)

Lyrics

How weak the thoughts, and vain,
Of self-deluding men!
Men who, fixed to earth alone,
Think their houses shall endure,
Fondly call their lands their own,
To their distant heirs secure.

Let us in God confide,
They for themselves provide,
Lasting settlements they make,
Prudently their views extend,
Thought for future ages take,
Live, as time would ne­ver end.

How soon may God rebuke
Their folly with a look!
Caused by the Almighty’s frown,
When the sudden earthquake comes,
Then their hopes are tumbled down,
Then their houses are their tombs.

Their lands alas! And they,
Are swept at once away,
Gaping earth receives them all,
Swallows up the nation’s boast;
See the pride of ages fall,
In a fatal moment lost!

How happy then are we,
Who build, O Lord, on Thee;
What can our foundation shock?
Though the shattered earth remove,
Stands our city on a rock,
On the Rock of heavenly love.

A house we call our own
Which cannot be o’erthrown;
In the general ruin sure,
Storms and earthquakes it defies;
Built immovably secure,
Built eter­nal in the skies.

High on Immanuel’s land
We see the fabric stand:
From a tottering world remove
To our steadfast mansion there;
Our inheritance above
Cannot pass from heir to heir.

Those amaranthine bowers,
Inalienably ours,
Bloom, our infinite reward,
Rise, our permanent abode;
From the founded world prepared;
Purchased by the blood of God.

O might we quickly find
The place for us designed;
See the long expected day
Of our full re­demp­tion here;
Let the shadows flee away,
Let the new made world appear!

High on Thy great white throne,
O King of saints, come down!
In the new Je­ru­sa­lem
Now triumphantly descend;
Let the final trump pro­claim
Joys begun which ne’er shall end!