MAKE the great God thy fort, and dwell In Him by faith and do not care (So shaded) for the power of hell, Or for the cunning fowler's snare, Or poison of the infected air. His plumes shall make a downy bed, Where thou shalt rest: He shall display His wings of truth over thy head, Which, like a shield, shall drive away The fears of night, the darts of day. The winged plague that flies by night, The murdering sword that kills by day, Shall not thy peaceful sleeps affright, Though on thy right and left hand they A thousand and ten thousand slay. Yet shall thine eyes behold the fall Of sinners; but, because thine heart Dwells with the Lord, not one of all Those ills, nor yet the plague and dart, Shall dare approach near where thou art. His angels shall direct thy legs, And guard them in the stony street: On lions' whelps and adders' eggs Thy steps shall march; and if thou meet With dragons, they shall kiss thy feet. When thou art troubled, He shall hear, And help thee, for thy love embrac'd And knew His name; therefore He'll rear Thy honours high, and, when thou hast Enjoy'd them long, save thee at last. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LAY OF ST. ODILLE by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM FO'C'S'LE YARNS: 1ST SERIES. SPIES ALTERA; TO THE FUTURE MANX POET by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN ALL'S WELL by WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER GOD OF OUR FATHERS by HENRY CHAPPELL A NIGHT ON THE SAINT LAWRENCE (RIMOUSKI) by GEORGE HERBERT CLARKE THE MORNING DREAM (2) by WILLIAM COWPER ON A FOUL [OR, FOULE] MORNING [BEING THEN TO TAKE A JOURNEY] by RICHARD CRASHAW |