Classic Poem

E NCOMPASS'D with ten thousand ills,
Press'd by pursuing foes,
I lift mine eyes unto the hills,
From whence salvation flows.

My help is from the Lord, who made
And governs earth and sky;
I look to his almighty aid,
And ever-watching eye.

— He who thy soul in safety keeps
Shall drive destruction hence;
The Lord thy keeper never sleeps;
The Lord is thy defence.

The sun, with his afflictive light,
Shall harm thee not by day;
Nor thee the moon molest by night
Along thy tranquil way.

Thee shall the Lord preserve from sin,
And comfort in distress;
Thy going out and coming in,
The Lord thy God shall bless.