YE sons of men, a feeble race,

YE sons of men, a feeble race, Exposed to every snare, Come make the Lord yourdwelling place And try, and trust His care.

He'll give His angels charge to keep Your feet in all their ways; To watch your pillow while you sleep, And guard your happy days.

Because on Me they set their love, I'll save them, saith the Lord; I'll bear their joyful souls above Destruction and the sword.

My grace shall answer when they call; In trouble I'll be nigh; My power shall help them when they fall, And raise them when they die.

Those that on earth My name have known I'll honour them in heaven; There My salvation shall be shown, And endless life be given.