271 – My Anchor Holds

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

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’er shade the sky, And the tempest rises high; Still I stand the tempest’s shock, For my anchor grips the rock.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.