My ref-uge is the God of love;
Why do my foes in-sult and cry,
"Fly like a tim-orous trem-bling dove,
To dis-tant woods or moun-tains fly"?
If God's con-trol be all des-troyed,
(That firm foun-da-tion of our peace)
And vi-o-lence make jus-tice void,
Where shall the right-eous seek re-lief?
The Lord in heaven hath fixed His throne,
His eye sur-veys the earth be-low;
To Him all mor-tal things are known,
His eye-lids search our spi-rits through.
If He af-flicts His saints so far
To prove their love, and try their grace,
What may the bold trans-gres-sors fear?
His ve-ry soul ab-hors their ways.
On im-pi-ous wretch-es He shall rain
Tem-pests of brim-stone, fire and death,
Such as He kin-dled on the plain
Of Sod-om with His ang-ry breath.
The right-eous Lord loves right-eous souls,
Whose thoughts and ac-tions are sin-cere;
And with a gra-cious eye be-holds
The men that His own im-age bears.
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