THE SMITTEN ROCK

Upon the shifting sands I stood,
Sinking, sinking down;
The tide was coming in so fast,
It seemed that I would drown.

I’ll lift myself and flee, said I,
Up to a higher land,
Before I perish all alone
Upon this shifting sand.

With struggles growing weaker
Till strength was almost gone,
I sank without a ray of hope,
But then--I saw the stone!

The stone was standing solid,
But in the shifting sand,
I could only look and pray,
Lord, now I’m in thy hand!

All my struggles to save myself
Have been to no avail,
Lord, without thy strength and help,
I know I’ll surely fail.

Then when hope was gone, it seemed,
I felt a gentle hand;
It set me here upon the rock,
Above the awful sand.

The winds of doubt and fear arose,
As on the rock I stood,
But a voice said, Peace be with you,
I’ve bought you with by blood.

The storm was raging higher,
It almost seemed to mock!
But the voice said, I will shield thee,
In a cleft of the smitten rock.

Now I stand steadfast and sure,
My life is ever locked,
Above the shifting, swirling sand
In a cleft of the smitten rock!

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