Though the angry surges roll on my tempest-driven soul, I am peaceful for I know, wildly though the
winds may blow, I've an anchor safe and sure, that can evermore endure.
And it holds, my anchor holds! Blow your wildest then, oh, gale, on my bark so small and frail; by His grace I shall not fail, for my anchor holds, my anchor holds!
Mighty tides about me sweep, perils lurk within the deep, angry clouds o'ershade the sky, and the tempest rises high; still I stand the tempest's shock, for my anchor grips the rock.
I can feel the anchor fast as I meet each sudden blast, and the cable, though unseen, bears the heavy strain between; through the storm I safely ride till the turning of the tide.
Troubles almost 'whelm the soul; griefs like billows o'er me roll; tempters seek to lure astray; storms obscure the light of day: but in Christ I can be bold, I've an anchor that shall hold.
by William C. Martin
See more nautical hymns here.