To whom in peril and dis­tress
While grow­ing ills our land op­press,
Should we for re­fuge fly?
Jesus, from age to age the same,
We find, con­fid­ing in Thy name,
The strength of Is­ra­el nigh.

Of wars and ru­mored wars we hear,
But Thy com­mand for­bids our fear,
And un­believ­ing haste;
In Thee our qui­et souls we hide
And safe be­neath Thy wings abide,
Till ev­ery storm is past.

Our on­ly care Thy grace to gain
And stead­fast in the faith re­main
Which sweet­ly works by love,
To prove Thine ac­cept­able will
And all Thy dear com­mands ful­fill
As an­gels do above.

Us, whom Thy mind and Spir­it arm,
Nor sword nor pes­ti­lence can harm,
Nor earth or hell an­noy;
The plagues that on the wick­ed seize
Can ne­ver in­ter­rupt our peace,
Or rob us of our joy.

We thus to meet our God pre­pare,
By con­stant watch­ful­ness and pray­er,
By toils of love re­newed,
Assured that all events shall join
Accomplishing Thy blest de­sign
In our eter­nal good.

O Son of Man, O God most high
We on Thy faith­ful word re­ly
For per­se­ver­ing grace,
Till ful­ly saved and count­ed meet
We stand, in ho­li­ness com­plete,
Before Thy glo­ri­ous face.