O let no foeman’s treacherous dart
From Thee, my Stronghold, chase me.
Help, Lord, Afford!
Near me tarry, Blows to parry,
While around me
Sword and arrow sore confound me.
Pour down Thy grace in cheering streams,
And warm my heart with Mercy’s beams,
From heaven, Thy Throne of Beauty;
Let Thy Good Spirit guide my will,