C. M.

Deliverance from a tumult.

The Lord appears my helper now,

Nor is my faith afraid

What all the sons of earth can do,

Since heav'n affords its aid.

'Tis safer, Lord, to hope in thee,

And have my God my friend,

Than trust in men of high degree,

And on their truth depend.

Like bees, my foes beset me round,

A large and angry swarm;

But I shall all their rage confound

By thine almighty arm.

'Tis through the Lord my heart is strong,

In him my lips rejoice;

While his salvation is my song,

How cheerful is my voice!

Like angry bees, they girt me round;

When God appears they fly;

So burning thorns, with crackling sound,

Make a fierce blaze and die.

Joy to the saints and peace belongs;

The Lord protects their days:

Let Isr'el tune immortal songs

To his almighty grace.