Lofty it rose, its mighty crown
Ascended to the sky.
Its branches spread to shade the earth
Where quiet shadows lie;
A haughty patron of the birds,
Who rest as they fly by.
Swift as a thought, the tempest rose
And brought the mighty down;
Tore it from the nurturing earth,
Tossed down its lofty crown,
Then threw it to the raging sea
And left it there to drown.
Thus do the storms of life arise,
While we stand in our pride.
However mighty is our name,
However long our stride,
The tempest will not spare a thought
And mercy be denied.
Yet there is one who rises up
Within the tempest’s face
To calm the waves and soothe the winds,
He stills the torrent’s pace,
And offers haven to the crushed
In his loving embrace.
The storms can never shatter those
Who grow within his grace.
20 Terrors overtake him like a flood;
a tempest snatches him away in the night.
21 The east wind carries him off, and he is gone;
it sweeps him out of his place.
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