The waves are tossing, billows roll, And storm clouds screen the sunny sky; I’ll trust the Lover of my soul, For I am safe when He is nigh. He’ll carry me up, up, away— Above the clouds the sun doth shine; In His dear arms of love I’ll lay, For I am His and He is mine.
I cannot see the way before; Through desert wastes or by the sea— Whatever He may have in store, I’ll drink the cup He giveth me. I’ll lowly let Him have His way To purge all dross and gold refine; In His dear arms of love I’ll lay, For I am His and He is mine.
Let nothing ever come to cool My love for Him who loveth me; Let nothing blight the bliss but fuel The flame to burn away debris. Let nothing turn my feet astray, Nor strain the ties that intertwine; In His dear arms of love I’ll lay, For I am His and He is mine.