The prophet with one faithful friend
	In the dark cavern stood,
A thousand foemen scouring round,
	All thirsting for his blood.

"Alas, my master," spake the liege,
	"Our term of life is sped;
I hear the murd'rous bands approach,
	Intent to strike us dead."

"Be not distressed!" in accents firm,
	The Prophet's voice replied;
"For God is mightier far than they,
	And God is on our side.

"Will He we live, no mortal power
	Can take our lives away;
Will He we die, to Him we pass;
	No need to feel dismay."

Oh, may we thus through life's rough voyage,
	With all its tempests cope;
Make God the Rock whereon we cast
	The anchor of our hope.

Come weal: to Him we give the praise;
	Come woe: on Him we rest;
E'en death is bliss to hearts assured
	Whate'er He sends is best.