First Line: O soul, tossed on the billows,

O soul, tossed on the billows,
Afar from friendly land,
Look up to Him who holds thee
In the hollow of His hand.

In the hollow of His hand !
In the hollow of His hand !----
Oh, how safe are all who trust Him,
In the hollow of His hand !

2 Though raging winds may drive thee
A wreck upon the strand,
Still cling to Him who holds thee
In the hollow of His hand.

3 When strength is spent in toiling,
And wearily you stand,
Then rest in Him who holds thee
In the hollow of His hand.

4 When by the swelling Jordan,
Your feet in sinking sand,
Remember still He holds thee
In the hollow of His hand.

5 And when at last we're gathered
With all the ransomed band,
We'll praise our God who holds us
In the hollow of His hand.