Incarnate God! the soul that knows Thy name’s mysterious power Shall dwell in undisturbed repose, Nor fear the trying hour. | Thy wisdom, faithfulness and love, To feeble helpless worms; A buckler and a refuge prove, From enemies and storms. | In vain the fowler spreads his net, To draw them from thy care; Thy timely call instructs their feet, To shun the artful snare. | When like a baneful pestilence, Sin mows its thousands down On every side, without defence, Thy grace secures thine own. | No midnight terrors haunt their bed, No arrow wounds by day; Unhurt on serpents they shall tread, If found in duty’s way. | Angels, unseen, attend the saints, And bear them in their arms; To cheer the spirit when it faints, And guard the life from harms. | The angels’ Lord, himself is nigh, To them that love his name; Ready to save them when they cry, And put their foes to shame. | Crosses and changes are their lot, Long as they sojourn here; But since their Savior changes not, What have the saints to fear? | |