Save me, O Lord, from every foe;

In thee my trust I place,

Tho' all the good that I can do

Can ne'er deserve thy grace.

Yet if my God prolong my breath

The saints may profit by't;

The saints, the glory of the earth,

The men of my delight.

Let heathens to their idols haste,

And worship wood or stone;

But my delightful lot is cast

Where the true God is known.

His hand provides my constant food,

He fills my daily cup;

Much am I pleas'd with present good,

But more rejoice in hope.

God is my portion and my joy,

His counsels are my light;

He gives me sweet advice by day,

And gentle hints by night.

My soul would all her thoughts approve

To his all-seeing eye;

Not death, nor hell my hope shall move,

While such a friend is nigh.