The li­on that on Samp­son roared,
And thirsted for his blood;
With ho­ney af­ter­wards was stored,
And fur­nished him with food.

Believers, as they pass along,
With many li­ons meet;
But ga­ther sweet­ness from the strong,
And from the eat­er, meat.

The li­ons rage and roar in vain,
For Je­sus is their shield;
Their loss­es prove a cer­tain gain,
Their trou­bles com­fort yield.

The world and Sa­tan join their strength,
To fill their souls with fears;
But crops of joy they reap at length,
From what they sow in tears.

Afflictions make them love the Word,
Stir up their hearts to pray­er;
And ma­ny pre­cious proofs af­ford,
Of their Re­deem­er’s care.

The li­ons roar but can­not kill,
Then fear them not, my friends;
They bring us, though against their will,
The ho­ney Je­sus sends.