When sickness grips my frame with fever’s chain,
And shadows veil the hope within my sight,
I seek the strength to rise above my pain—
My help cometh from the Lord, my light.

When loss doth rend my heart with bitter grief,
And empty days stretch far as eyes can see,
I find in faith a solace, though so brief—
My help cometh from the Lord, to me.

When foes arise to mock my striving day,
Their words like arrows pierce my weary soul,
Yet still I stand, upheld by heaven’s stay—
My help cometh from the Lord, my lord.

Through every trial, His hand shall e’er sustain,
The Maker’s love my refuge shall remain.

When sickness grips my frame with fever’s chain,
And shadows veil the hope within my sight,
I seek the strength to rise above my pain—
My help cometh from the Lord, my light.

When loss doth rend my heart with bitter grief,
And empty days stretch far as eyes can see,
I find in faith a solace, though so brief—
My help cometh from the Lord, to me.

When foes arise to mock my striving day,
Their words like arrows pierce my weary soul,
Yet still I stand, upheld by heaven’s stay—
My help cometh from the Lord, my lord.

Through every trial, His hand shall e’er sustain,
The Maker’s love my refuge shall remain.