When I sink down in gloom or fear,
Hope blighted or delayed,
Your whisper, Lord, my heart shall cheer,
It's I; be not afraid!

Or, startled at some sudden blow,
If fretful thoughts I feel,
Fear not, it is but I! shall flow,
As balm my wound to heal.

Nor will I quit your way, though foes
Some onward pass defend;
From each rough voice the watchword goes,
Be not afraid! ... a friend!

And oh! when judgment's trumpet clear
Awakes me from the grave,
Still in its echo may I hear,
It's Christ; He comes to save.