Help, Lord! the bu­sy foe
Is as a flood come in!
Lift up a stand­ard, and o’er­throw
This soul dis­tract­ing sin.
This sud­den tide of care
Stem by that bloody tree,
Nor let the ris­ing tor­rent bear
My soul away from Thee.

The pray­ing spir­it breathe,
The watch­ing pow­er impart,
From all en­tan­gle­ments beneath
Call off my anx­ious heart:
My fee­ble mind sus­tain
By world­ly thoughts op­pressed:
Appear, and bid me turn again
To my eter­nal rest.

Swift to my res­cue come,
Thine own this mo­ment seize,
Gather my wan­der­ing spir­it home,
And keep in per­fect peace,
Suffered no more to rove
O’er all the earth abroad,
Arrest the pri­son­er of Thy love,
And shut me up in God.