Providence

O God, our shield! our strong defense,
Sure staff of souls distress’d,
Beneath thy watchful providence,
Thy saints securely rest.

No want have they who seek thy face;
No good wilt thou withhold
From them that walk in righteousness,
The flock of thine own fold.

From strength to strength thy servants go,
Delighting in thy will;
Triumphant over every foe,
They stand on Zion’s hill.

Forever blessèd be thy name,—
And let the whole earth be
The temple of thy glorious fame,
And thy salvation see.