G • N • S
r i f t e d • r o c k
In the Rifted Rock I'm resting,
Sure and safe from all alarm;
Storms and billows have united,
All in vain, to do me harm:
In the Rifted Rock I'm resting,
Surf is dashing at my feet,
Storm-clouds dark are o'er me hovering,
Yet my rest is all complete.
Many a stormy sea I've traversed,
Many a tempest-shock have known;
Have been driven, without anchor,
On the barren shore and lone.
Yet I now have found a haven,
Never moved by tempest shock,
Where my soul is safe for ever,
In the blessed Rifted Rock.
(Lewis Hartsough, 1828 – 1919)
r i f t e d • r o c k
In the Rifted Rock I'm resting,
Sure and safe from all alarm;
Storms and billows have united,
All in vain, to do me harm:
In the Rifted Rock I'm resting,
Surf is dashing at my feet,
Storm-clouds dark are o'er me hovering,
Yet my rest is all complete.
Many a stormy sea I've traversed,
Many a tempest-shock have known;
Have been driven, without anchor,
On the barren shore and lone.
Yet I now have found a haven,
Never moved by tempest shock,
Where my soul is safe for ever,
In the blessed Rifted Rock.
(Lewis Hartsough, 1828 – 1919)