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.
— Amherst D. Tyssen