Firm and unmoved are they
That rest their souls on God;
Firm as the mount where David dwelt,
Or where the ark abode.

As mountains stood to guard
The city’s sacred ground,
So God and His al­migh­ty love
Embrace His saints around.

What tho’ the Fa­ther’s rod
Drop a chastising stroke,
Yet lest it wound their souls too deep
Its fury shall be broke.

Deal gently, Lord, with those
Whose faith and pious fear,
Whose hope, and love, and every grace
Proclaim their hearts sincere.

Nor shall the tyrant’s rage
Too long oppress the saint;
The God of Israel will support
His children lest they faint.

But if our slavish fear
Will choose the road to hell,
We must expect our portion there,
Where bolder sinners dwell.