1 Who makes Omnipotence his Aid;
Who rests beneath Jehovah's Shade,
And joyful cires, "My God! in Thee
'My Fortress, and my Hope I see;
"And steadfast on thy ARm divine,
"My Trust in each Distress recline.

2 How blest that Man! Thy Mader's Care
Shall snatch Thee from the Hunter's Snare:
When sick'ning Nature's Pow'rs shall fail,
No fatal Stroke shall Thee assaiL;
His Wings around Thee shall He Spread,
His Pinions guard thy favour'd Head.

3 His Truth thy Shield; Nor Terror pale,
By Night shall o;er thy Soul prevail:
Nor Shaft, that aims its Flight by Day,
Thy guiltless Bosom shall dismay:
No Dart shall thy Destruction dare,
Or wound, whom God has bid to spare.

4 Thy duteous Zeal, thy filial Love
He marks; and will thy Acts approve;
Thy Fears avert; thy Griefs attend;
(Thy God, thy Guardian and thy Friend)
Thy Years prolong; and to thy Heart
His Healt-dispensing Grace impart.