Though the ang­ry surg­es roll
On my tem­pest driv­en soul,
I am peace­ful, for I know,
Wildly though the winds may blow,
I’ve an an­chor safe and sure,
That can ev­er­more en­dure.

Refrain

And it holds, my an­chor holds:
Blow your wild­est, then, O gale,
On my bark so small and frail;
By His grace I shall not fail,
For my an­chor holds, my an­chor holds.

Mighty tides about me sweep,
Perils lurk with­in the deep,
Angry clouds o’er­shade the sky,
And the tem­pest ris­es high;
Still I stand the tem­pest’s shock,
For my an­chor grips the rock.

Refrain

I can feel the an­chor fast
As I meet each sud­den blast,
And the ca­ble, though un­seen,
Bears the hea­vy strain be­tween;
Through the storm I safe­ly ride,
Till the turn­ing of the tide.

Refrain

Troubles al­most ’whelm the soul;
Griefs like bil­lows o’er me roll;
Tempters seek to lure as­tray;
Storms ob­scure the light of day:
But in Christ I can be bold,
I’ve an an­chor that shall hold.

Refrain