The Psalms of David ‎#P91b

P91b. Ye Sons of Men, a feeble Race

1 Ye Sons of Men, a feeble Race,
Expos'd to evrry Snare;
Come, make the Lord your Dwelling-place,
And try and trust his Care.

2 No Ill shall enter where you dwell;
Or if the Plague come nigh,
And sweep the Wicked down to Hell,
'Twill raise his Saints on high.

3 He'll give his Angels Charge to keep
Your Feet in all their Ways;
To watch your Pillow while you sleep,
And Guard your happy Days.

4 Their Hands shall bear you, lest you fall
And dash against the Stones:
Are they not Servants at his Call,
And sent t' attend his Sons?

5 Adders and Lions ye shall tread;
The Tempter's Wiles defeat;
He that hath broke the Serpent's Head
Puts him beneath your Feet.

6 "Because on me they set their Love,
"I'll save them (saith the Lord)
"I'll bear their joyful Soul above
"Destruction and the Sword.

7 "My Grace shall answer when they call;
"In trouble I'll be nigh:
"My Pow'r shall help 'em when they fall,
"And raise them when they die.

8 "Those that on Earth my Name have known,
"I'll honour them in Heav'n;
"There my Salvation shall be shown,
"And endless Life be giv'n."

Text Information

• First Line: Ye Sons of Men, a feeble Race
• Language: English
• Publication Date: 1740
• Scripture:
  Psalm 91:9-16
• Topic: Angels: guardian; Pestilence: preservation in it

Tune Information

(No tune information)