Poem by Henry Francis Lyte

* * *

There is a safe and secret place,
Beneath the wings divine,
Reserved for all the heirs of grace;
O be that refuge mine!

The least and feeblest there may bide,
Uninjured and unawed;
While thousands fall on every side,
He rests secure in God.

He feeds in pastures, large and fair,
Of love and truth divine,
O child of God, O glory’s heir,
How rich a lot is thine!

A hand almighty to defend,
An ear for every call,
An honored life, a peaceful end,
And heaven to crown it all!

1. Praise for Thee, Lord, in Zion Waits
2. Jesus, I My Cross Have Taken
3. God of Mercy, God of Grace
4. Praise, My Soul, the King of Heaven
5. When at Thy Footstool, Lord, I Bend

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