Now from the Roaring Lion’s Rage

Now from the roar­ing li­on’s rage

O Lord

pro­tect Thy Son

Nor leave Thy dar­ling to en­gage

The pow­ers of hell alone.

Thus did our suf­fer­ing Sav­ior pray

With migh­ty cries and tears;

God heard Him in that dread­ful day

And chased away His fears.

Great was the vic­to­ry of His death

His throne ex­alt­ed high;

And all the kin­dreds of the earth

Shall wor­ship or shall die.

A nu­mer­ous off­spring must arise

From His ex­pir­ing groans;

They shall be reck­oned in His eyes

For daugh­ters and for sons.

The meek and hum­ble souls shall see

His ta­ble rich­ly spread;

And all that seek the Lord shall be

With joys im­mor­tal fed.

The isles shall know the right­eous­ness

Of our in­car­nate God

And na­tions yet un­born pro­fess

Salvation in His blood.