Here at Thy cross, my dy­ing God,
I lay my soul be­neath Thy love,
Beneath the drop­pings of Thy blood,
Jesus! nor shall it e’er re­move.

Not all that ty­rants think or say,
With rage and light­ning in their eyes,
Nor hell shall fright my heart away,
Should hell with all its le­gions rise.

Should worlds con­spire to drive me then­ce,
Moveless and firm this heart should lie;
Resolved (for that’s my last de­fense)
If I must perish, there to die.

But speak, my Lord, and calm my fear;
Am I not safe be­neath Thy shade?
Thy ven­geance will not strike me here,
Nor Sa­tan dares my soul in­vade.

Yes, I’m se­cure be­neath Thy blood,
And all my foes shall lose their aim;
Hosanna to my dy­ing God;
And my best hon­ors to His name.