In vain the pow­ers of dark­ness try
To work the Church’s ill,
The Friend of sin­ners reigns on high,
And checks them at His will.

Though mis­chief in their hearts may dwell,
And on their tongues de­ceit,
A word of His their pride can quell,
And all their aims de­feat.

Let world­lings pant for world­ly wealth;
Its worth His peo­ple see.
The Lord is their de­sire and health;
The Lord will strength­en me.

My trust is in His grace alone;
His house shall be my home.
How sweet His mer­cies past to own,
And hope for more to come.