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 Is­ra­el tune im­mor­tal songs
To His al­migh­ty grace.