He that dwell­eth in the sec­ret
Place of God, Most High,
When the days of bit­ing bit­ter­ness
And tra­vail draw­eth nigh,
With the crim­soned lin­tel over
And the shel­tering so­lace sure,
Doth abide be­neath the sha­dow
Of Om­ni­po­tence, secure.

Refrain

Art thou dwell­ing in this hid­ing,
Underneath the sprin­kled blood?
Is thy soul, by grace, abid­ing
In the sec­ret place of God?
There is full­ness there, and sweet­ness;
All thy pow’rs find full em­ploy,
Gladness, com­fort­ing, com­plete­ness,
Peace, and ev­er­last­ing joy.

He a re­fuge is, and fort­ress,
Unto all who trust;
From the fowl­er’s snare and pes­ti­lence
He ran­som­eth the just;
His truth is shield and buck­ler—
So the po­tent pr­omise rings—
And there’s rest, de­light and safe­ty
’Neath the co­ver of His wings.

Refrain

He hath said it: I will an­swer
Him who calls on Me;
I will hon­or and de­liv­er him,
From trou­ble set him free;
Because his love is on Me still,
My name to glo­ri­fy,
I will save and sa­tis­fy him,
And will give him life on high.

Refrain