THY promise, Lord, is perfect peace, And yet my trials still increase; Till fears, at times, my soul beset That Satan will defeat me yet.
Then, Saviour, must I fly to Thee, And in Thy strength my refuge see; O hear me from Thy holy hill, And calm, and keep, and help me still.
Beneath Thy care secure I sleep, For what can harm, when Thou dost keep? I’ll wake and know Thee at my side, My omnipresent guard and guide!
For how can earth or hell distress, With God so strong, so near to bless? From Thee alone salvation flows, My only refuge and repose.
Henry Francis Lyte, 1793-1847