Save me, O Lord, from ev­ery foe;
In Thee my trust I place,
Though all the good that I can do
Can ne’er de­serve Thy grace.

Yet if my God pro­long my breath,
The saints may pro­fit by’t;
The saints, the glo­ry of the earth,
The men of my de­light.

Let hea­thens to their id­ols haste,
And wor­ship wood or stone;
But my de­light­ful lot is cast
Where the true God is known.

His hand pro­vides my con­stant food,
He fills my dai­ly cup;
Much am I pleased with pre­sent good,
But more re­joice in hope.

God is my por­tion and my joy,
His coun­sels are my light;
He gives me sweet ad­vice by day,
And gen­tle hints by night.

My soul would all her thoughts ap­prove
To His all-see­ing eye;
Not death, nor hell, my hope shall move,
While such a friend is nigh.