There is a safe and sec­ret place,
Beneath the wings di­vine,
Reserved for all the heirs of grace;
O be that re­fuge mine!

The least and feeb­lest there may bide,
Uninjured and un­awed;
While thou­sands fall on ev­ery side,
He rests se­cure in God.

The an­gels watch him on his way,
And aid with friend­ly arm;
And Sa­tan roar­ing for his prey
May hate, but can­not harm.

He feeds in pas­tures large and fair
Of love and truth di­vine.
O child of God, O glo­ry’s heir,
How rich a lot is thine!

A hand al­migh­ty to de­fend,
An ear for ev­ery call,
An hon­ored life, a peace­ful end,
And Heav’n to crown it all!