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 trust 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!
--Henry F. Lyte.