He that hath made his refuge God,
Shall find a most secure abode;
Shall walk all day beneath His shade,
And there at night shall rest his head.
Then will I say, “My God, Thy pow’r
Shall be my fortress and my tow’r:
I, that am form’d of feeble dust,
Make Thine almighty arm my trust.”
Thrice happy man! thy Maker’s care
Shall keep thee from the fowler’s snare;