THE Christian, like his Lord of old,

THE Christian, like his Lord of old, Must look for foes and trials here: Yet may the weakest saint be bold, With such a friend as Jesus near.

The lion's roar need not alarm, O Lord, the feeblest of Thy sheep; The serpent's venom cannot harm, While Thou art nigh to watch and keep.

Before, when dangers round me spread, I cried to Thee, Almighty Friend; Thou coveredst my defenceless head; And shall I not on Thee depend?

O refuge of the poor and weak, Humble the proud, uphold the meek, And bring us safe to Thee on high,