O weary heart, when shadows lengthen long,
And burdens press that mortal eyes ne’er see,
When prayers ascend on slow, reluctant wing,
And hope seems faint ‘midst life’s perplexity—
Lift not thine eyes to shifting circumstance,
Nor let despair enthrone its fleeting throne;
For every word that from the Almighty came
Proves true, a shield where refuge may be known.

Not one fair promise falters in the night,
Though storms assail and tempests veil the sky;
God’s ancient vows, through ages ever bright,
Stand firm when earthly comforts fade and die.
He spoke of grace, of pardon full and free—
The Messiah’s blood, the cross’s victory won;
In that dread hour when darkness veiled the tree,
His greatest pledge was sealed: the work is done.

If He who framed the stars kept faith so vast,
Fulfilling prophecy in love’s deep cost,
Shall lesser trials His covenant outlast?
Nay—every sorrow finds its end in Christ.
The cross replies to doubt’s most cunning art:
“Behold, I am faithful; trust Me with thy part.”

So lean, O soul, upon this steadfast rock,
Though heart grow tired and flesh would faint away;
The shield of refuge bears no mortal shock—
In Jesus’ finished work thy strength renews each day.
No unseen load can sever love divine;
No darkened path can dim His guiding ray.
For He who rose triumphant o’er the grave
Still writes thy story in unerring grace.

Rest, then, in promises that never bend,
Till weary seasons yield to endless morn;
Thy God hath spoken—every word shall end
In triumph, as the first faint light is born.
Take refuge, heart: the cross thy anchor proves—
God’s Word is true, and in His truth thou moves.