Verse 1
Ah, whither will ye fly,
Ye sheep of Jesus fold?
The death approaching nigh
The slaughtering wolf behold!
He comes, besmear’d with Stephen’s blood,
To martyr all the saints of God!
Verse 2
Now, now he ready is
To spring upon his prey,
The helpless flock to seize
And rend, and tear, and slay!
Lord, what shall stop his headlong rage,
And save thy wasted heritage?
Verse 3
A word, a look from Thee
Can make the savage tame,
Disarm his cruelty,
And change him to a lamb,
Can strike opposers to the ground,
And all thy church’s foes confound.
Verse 4
Thou them in their distress
Didst at Damascus save,
That we, when men oppress,
Full confidence may have,
Rest in the fold, and safe from harm
Depend on thine unshortned Arm.