Scripture Verse

He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in Him will I trust. Surely He shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence. He shall cover thee with His feathers, and under His wings shalt thou trust: His truth shall be thy shield and buckler. Psalm 91:1-4

Introduction

portrait
Henry Carey (1687–1743)

Words: A New Ver­sion of the Psalms of Da­vid, by Na­hum Tate & Ni­cho­las Bra­dy, 1698.

Music: Car­ey’s Sur­rey Hen­ry Car­ey, 1723. Har­mo­ny from The Eng­lish Hym­nal (Lon­don: Ox­ford Uni­ver­si­ty Press, 1906), num­ber 491 (🔊 pdf nwc).

Alternate Tunes:

illustration
Nahum Tate (1652–1715)

Lyrics

He that has God his guar­di­an made,
Shall, un­der the Al­migh­ty’s shade,
Secure and un­dis­turbed abide.
Thus to my soul of Him I’ll say,
He is my fort­ress and my stay,
My God, in whom I will con­fide.

His ten­der love and watch­ful care
Shall free thee from the fowl­er’s snare,
And from the noi­some pes­ti­lence:
He ov­er thee His wings shall spread,
And co­ver thy un­guard­ed head;
His truth shall be thy strong de­fense.

No ter­rors that sur­prise by night
Shall thy un­daunt­ed cour­age fright,
Nor dead­ly shafts that fly by day;
Nor plague of un­known rise, that kills
In dark­ness, nor in­fect­ious ills
That in the hot­test sea­son slay.

A thou­sand at thy side shall die,
At thy right hand ten thou­sand lie,
While thy firm health un­touched re­mains;
Thou on­ly shalt look on and see
The wick­ed’s dis­mal tra­ge­dy,
And count the sin­ner’s mourn­ful gains.

Because, with well-placed con­fi­dence,
Thou mak’st the Lord thy sure de­fense,
And on the high­est dost rely;
Therefore no ill shall thee befall,
Nor to thy health­ful dwell­ing shall
Any in­fect­ious plague draw nigh.

For He, through­out thy hap­py days,
To keep thee safe in all thy ways
Shall give His an­gels strict com­mands;
And they, lest thou should’st chance to meet
With some rough stone to wound thy feet
Shall bear thee safe­ly in their hands.

Dragons and asps, that thirst for blood,
And li­ons roar­ing for their food,
Beneath his con­quer­ing feet shall lie;
Because he loved and hon­ored Me,
Therefore, says God, I’ll set him free,
And fix his glo­ri­ous throne on high.

He’ll call; I’ll an­swer, when he calls,
And res­cue him when ill be­falls;
Increase his hon­or and his wealth:
And when with un­dis­turbed con­tent
His long and hap­py life is spent,
His end I’ll crown with sav­ing health.