To the hills I lift my eyes,
the everlasting hills.
Streaming forth in fresh supplies,
my soul the Spirit feels;
will he not his help afford?
Help, while yet I ask, is giv’n;
God comes down, the God and Lord
who made both earth and heav’n.

Faithful soul, pray, always pray,
and still in God confide;
he your stumbling steps shall stay,
and shall not let you slide;
safe from known or secret roes,
free from sin and Satan’s hold,
when the flesh, earth, hell oppose,
he’ll keep you in his fold.

See the Lord, your keeper, stand
omnipotently near.
Now he holds you by the hand,
and banishes your fear;
shadows with his wings your head,
guards from all impending harms;
round you and beneath are spread
the everlasting arms.

Christ shall bless your going out,
shall bless your coming in;
kindly compass you about,
till you are saved from sin.
Like your spotless Master, you,
filled with wisdom, love, and pow’r,
holy, pure, and perfect now,
both now and evermore.