As I typed in this hymn, the changes in language since the 1880s were very striking. The words were recognizable, but strange.
My weary soul a rest hath found,
A rest that will not fail;
A sure and certain anch’rage ground
In Christ within the vail.
O Rock of ages cleft for me,
In Thee my soul securely hide;
My tower of strength, I fly to Thee,
And safely there abide.
I hide me in this refuge strong,
From every tempest’s blast;
And sit and sing until the storm
Of wrath is overpast.
Ye comfortless and tempest-tost,
By sins and woes opprest;
Ye tempted, troubled, ruined, lost,
Come find in Christ your rest.
Ye thirsty, from this smitten Rock
Life’s crystal waters spring;
There hide from ev’ry stormy shock,
And rest, and drink, and sing.
H. J. Hastings/Hubert P. Main