XI.
Psalm xci.
[_]
(Probably composed on occasion of deliverance from pestilence.)
In the Temple's secret cell,
He who his abode has made,
Shall, beneath the Almighty's shade,
In a sure asylum dwell.
To Jehovah I resort,
As my refuge and my fort.
In my God, my strong defence,
Centres all my confidence.
From the fowler's fatal snare,
From the plague-envenomed air,
He shall guard thee: o'er thy head,
His paternal wings out-spread,
Shall secure protection yield,
And His truth shall be thy shield.
Fear no dangers of the night;
Fear no shaft of fiery light;
Whether pest of midnight hour,
Or the simoom's baleful power.
Though around thee thousands die,
Thee the plague shall not come nigh.
But in safety thou shalt view
Judgements to the guilty due.
Since thy faith Jehovah's aid
Hath its tower of refuge made,—
Since thou hast on God relied,
Thee no evil shall betide;
Thine abode no plague molest;
No alarm disturb thy rest.
Angel-bands that never sleep,
Shall their guard around thee keep,
Gaide thy steps with watchful care,
And thy stumbling feet upbear.
All unharméd thou shalt tread
On the asp, or dragon's head;
Undismay'd the lion meet,—
He shall crouch beneath thy feet.
He that loves me, saith the Lord,
Such shall be his high reward.
I will keep his soul from shame,
Who hath glorified my name.
When he calleth, I will hear;
In all trouble will be near,
And for his relief appear.
He in honour shall abide,—
With long life be satisfied,
And his latest hour shall be
Dawning immortality.
