The tempest rages through the earth around,
Tossing the ocean into mountain waves:
Thrones shake and totter, as the storm-wind raves,
And mightiest empires tremble at the sound:
Man has no structure on the solid ground,
Which bides the tumult, or its fury braves:
The sev'n-hill'd City, which the Tiber laves,
Though call'd eternal, shakes and is astound:
E'en its proud chief and priest, in sad affright,
Flees for his safety to a distant shore,
Lest falling temples on his head alight:
What is there stable 'mid this wild uproar?――
The CHURCH heeds not the angry billows' shock;――
THY CHURCH, O LORD, is founded on a rock!