Scripture Verse

In the Lord I take refuge. How then can you say to me: Flee like a bird to your mountain. For look, the wicked bend their bows; they set their arrows against the strings to shoot from the shadows at the upright in heart. Psalm 11:1–2


Words: Har­ri­et Au­ber, Spir­it of the Psalms 1829, page 10.

Music: Ari­zo­na Ro­bert H. Earn­shaw, in The Book of Praise (To­ron­to, On­tar­io: Ox­ford Uni­ver­si­ty Press, 1918) (🔊 pdf nwc).

If you know where to get a good pic­ture of Earn­shaw (head & shoul­ders, at least 200×300 pix­els),

Harriet Auber (1773–1862)


When all bespeaks a Fa­ther’s love,
Oh wherefore, fearful as the dove,
Should we in times of peril flee
To any refuge, Lord, but Thee?

In vain the wicked bend their bow,
And seek to lay the righteous low;
Thou from Thine ev­er­last­ing throne
With watchful care regard’st Thine own.

Thy voice shall seal the sinner’s fate,
Just vengeance shall his crimes await;
While the bright beams of grace divine
Shall on Thy faithful servants shine.