WHAT though this earthly house of clay

 Sink into ruin and decay,

Though health and vigor pass away,

 Christ is my life.

What though fond dreams of youth be fled,

 The light that shone upon my head

Extinguished and forever dead,

Christ is my light.

What though bright hopes now withered lie,

 Like autumn leaves, all sere and dry,

 Or meteors vanished from the sky,

Christ is my hope.

What though rude billows round me roll,

 His voice the tempest can control;

They ruffle not my tranquil soul,

Christ is my peace.

What though dear friends I once caressed

 Within the silent grave now rest,

The valley clods above them pressed,

Christ ever lives.

What though perplexing paths appear,

God’s Word, a lamp, makes all things clear;

Onward I pass, nor evil fear,

Christ is my way.

What though the darkness deeper grows,

And foes more active to oppose,

 God’s truth provides a sweet repose,

Christ shall appear.

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