Though waves and storms go o'er my head, Though strength and health and friends be gone, Though joys be withered all, and dead, Though every comfort be withdrawn, On this my steadfast soul relies,— Father! Thy mercy never dies. JOHANN A. ROTHE. gray storm clouds lay heavy over the mountains

Though waves and storms go o’er my head,

 Though strength and health and friends be gone,

Though joys be withered all, and dead,

 Though every comfort be withdrawn,

 On this my steadfast soul relies,—

 Father! Thy mercy never dies.

JOHANN A. ROTHE

Though waves and storms go o'er my head, Though strength and health and friends be gone, Though joys be withered all, and dead, Though every comfort be withdrawn, On this my steadfast soul relies,— Father! Thy mercy never dies. JOHANN A. ROTHE. gray storm clouds lay heavy over the mountains

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