The tempt­er to my soul hath said,
There is no help in God for thee;
Lord, lift Thou up Thy ser­vant’s head;
My glo­ry, shield, and so­lace be.

Thus to the Lord I raised my cry,
He heard me from His ho­ly hill;
At His com­mand the waves rolled by;
He beck­oned, and the winds were still.

I laid me down, and slept—I woke;
Thou, Lord, my spir­it didst sus­tain;
Bright from the east the morn­ing broke,
Thy com­forts rose on me again.

I will not fear, though arm­èd throngs
Compass my steps in all their wrath;
Salvation to the Lord be­longs;
His pre­sence guards His peo­ple’s path.