Rock

Verse 1

Whilst we are marching thro' This land with drought accurs'd, Rivers of living waters flow, In thee to quench our thirst.

Verse 2

This world's a weary land; By sin, a desart made: 'Tis all around a burning strand; Has no refreshing shade.

Verse 3

But thou'rt our mighty rock; Thy shadow very great! Where all thy weary pilgrim flock Find a divine retreat.

Verse 4

Tho' once with sin oppress'd, From which no part was free; Our grievances are now redress'd, Dear, glorious man, in thee.

Verse 5

In thee we now have found What'er we lost, and more; We see thy grace much more abound, Than sin had done before.

Verse 6

Thy praise be our employ; Thy glories ever shine: All our salvation, hope, and joy, Art thou, O Man divine!