My Trust Is in My Heav’nly Friend

My trust is in my heav’n­ly friend

My hope in Thee

my God;

Rise

and my help­less life de­fend

From those that seek my blood.

With in­so­lence and fu­ry they

My soul in piec­es tear

As hun­gry li­ons rend the prey

When no de­li­ver­er’s near.

If I had e’er pro­voked them first

Or once ab­used my foe

Then let him tread my life to dust

And lay mine hon­or low.

If there be ma­lice found in me

I know Thy pierc­ing eyes;

I should not dare ap­peal to Thee

Nor ask my God to rise.

Arise

my God

lift up Thy hand

Their pride and pow’r con­trol;

Awake to judg­ment and com­mand

Deliverance for my soul.

Let sin­ners and their wick­ed rage

Be hum­bled to the dust;

Shall not the God of truth en­gage

To vin­di­cate the just?

He knows the heart

He tries the reins

He will de­fend th’up­right:

His sharp­est ar­rows He or­dains

Against the sons of spite.

For me their ma­lice dug a pit

But there them­selves are cast;

My God makes all their mis­chief light

On their own heads at last.

That cru­el per­se­cut­ing race

Must feel His dread­ful sword;

Awake

my soul

and praise the grace

And jus­tice of the Lord.