from whence cometh my help

the evil presses in on every side;

just one small lamp shines dimly through the dark --

brighter than the hope that in me died,

and yet too dim to guide my frail bark.

the gulfs are growing deep -- I'm overwhelmed,

and stormwinds blow me any way they will;

whiter than the snow the billows roll --

but I will lift my eyes up to the hills.

the light breaks forth, and every evil flees!

and firmly planted are my feet on earth. 

lighter, then, my heart in peace will sleep...

and kept forevermore from this time forth.