HE that hath made his refuge God

HE that hath made his refuge God Shall find a most secure abode, Shall walk all day beneath His shade, And there at night shall rest his head.

Then will I say, My God, Thy power Shall be my fortress and my tower: I, that am form'd of feeble dust, Make Thine almighty arm my trust.

Thrice happy man! thy Maker's care Shall keep thee from the fowler's snare; Satan, the fowler, who betrays Unguarded souls a thousand ways.

Just as a hen protects her brood, From birds of prey that seek their blood, Under her feathers, so the Lord Makes His own arm His people's guard.

If vapours, with malignant breath, Rise thick, and scatter midnight death, Israel is safe; the poison'd air Grows pure, if Israel's God be there.

What though a thousand at thy side, At thy right hand, ten thousand died, Thy God His chosen people saves Amongst the dead, amidst the graves.

But if the fire, or plague, or sword, Receive commission from the Lord To strike His saints among the rest, Their very pains and deaths are blest.

The sword, the pestilence, or fire, Shall but fulfil their best desire; From sins and sorrows set them free, And bring Thy children, Lord, to Thee.