I
Lord, a band of foes increasing
Terror to my heart would bring;
For they tell my soul unceasing,
That no help from God can spring.
II
Yet Thou art my shield about me,
Till the time of strife is past;
And though cruel foes may flout me,
Thou wilt hear my prayer at last.
III
On my couch when night was falling,
Lay I down devoid of fear;
And when morning light was calling,
I awoke, for thou wert near.
IV
Tens of thousands round my dwelling
Stand arrayed to do me harm;
But my trust when foes are swelling,
Rests in Thine almighty arm.
V
Rise, O Lord, for Thou, victorious,
Hast the might of sin o’erthrown,
And amid Thy triumph glorious,
Bless the people Thou dost own.
Hymns from the Morningland, 1911