My spirit looks to God alone;

My rock and refuge is his throne;

In all my fears, in all my straits,

My soul on his salvation waits.

Trust him, ye saints, in all your ways,

Pour out your hearts before his face:

When helpers fail, and foes invade,

God is our all-sufficient aid.

False are the men of high degree,

The baser sort are vanity;

Laid in the balance both appear

Light as a puff of empty air.

Make not increasing gold your trust,

Nor set your heart on glittering dust;

Why will you grasp the fleeting smoke;

And not believe what God hath spoke?

Once has his awful voice declar'd,

Once and again my ears have heard,

"All power is his eternal due;

"He must be fear'd and trusted too."

For sovereign power reigns not alone,

Grace is a partner of the throne:

Thy grace and justice, mighty Lord,

Shall well divide our last reward.