Deliver my soul from the wicked, which is Thy sword: From men which are Thy hand, O Lord, from men of the world, which have their portion in this life, and whose belly Thou fillest with Thy hid treasure: they are full of children, and leave the rest of their substance to their babes. Psalm 17:13–14
Lord, I am Thine: but Thou wilt prove
My faith, my patience, and my love:
When men of spite against me join,
They are the sword, the hand is Thine.
Their hope and portion lies below:
’Tis all the happiness they know,
’Tis all they seek; they take their shares,
And leave the rest among their heirs.
What sinners value I resign;
Lord, ’tis enough that Thou art mine:
I shall behold Thy blissful face,
And stand complete in righteousness.
This life’s a dream, an empty show;
But the bright world to which I go
Hath joys substantial and sincere:
When shall I wake, and find me there?
O glorious hour! O blest abode!
I shall be near and like my God!
And flesh and sin no more control
The sacred pleasures of the soul.
My flesh shall slumber in the ground
Till the last trumpet’s joyful sound;
Then burst the chains in sweet surprise,
And in my Savior’s image rise.