Hope an Helmet

HOpe is a precious Grace, O Lord,
And fixed it must be
Upon thy self most patiently,
No other Hope have we.

'Tis not on Gold, nor length of days,
Nor on things here below;
But 'tis on Jesus Christ alone,
From whence all Help doth flow:

And like a Helmet 'tis we find
That doth preserve the Head;
Hope stays on thee, always our mind,
When we are hard bested;

And as a Helmet fearless makes
A Souldier in the Field;
So hope of glory makes us all
Resolve we ne're will yield

To Satan, nor to other Foes,
When we with them do meet;
Nor need we fear their cruel blows,
If we have this Helmet,

Since we compleatly armed are,
Even from head to foot,
Our head-piece makes us to appear
Both fierce and very stout.

This Helmet will us never fail
If that we have it on;
The Soul it is, it doth preserve
Till all our dangers gone.