The Believer’s Safety

I

Incarnate God! the soul that knows
Thy name’s mysterious power
Shall dwell in undisturb’d repose,
Nor fear the trying hour.

II

Thy wisdom, faithfulness, and love,
To feeble, helpless worms,
A buckler and a refuge prove
From enemies and storms.

III

In vain the fowler spreads his net,
To draw them from thy care;
Thy timely call instructs their feet
To shun the artful snare.

IV

When, like a baneful pestilence,
Sin mows its thousands down,
On every side, without defence,
Thy grace secures thine own.

V

No midnight terrors haunt their bed,
No arrow wounds by day;
Unhurt on serpents they shall tread,
If found in duty’s way.

VI

Angels, unseen, attend the saints,
And bear them in their arms,
To cheer the spirit when it faints,
And guard their life from harms.

VII

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.

VIII

Crosses and changes are their lot
Long as they sojourn here;
But since their Saviour changes not,
What have the saints to fear?