1 How happy are the little flock,
Who, safe beneath their guardian Rock,
In all commotions rest;
When war’s and tumult’s waves run high,
Unmoved above the storm they lie,
And lodge in Jesus’ breast. MIM 88.2
2 Such happiness, O Lord, have we,
By mercy gathered into thee,
Before the floods descend;
And while the bursting cloud comes down,
We mark the vengeful day begun,
And calmly wait the end. MIM 88.3
3 The plague, and dearth, and din of war,
Our Savior’s swift approach declare,
And bid our hearts arise;
Earth’s basis shook, confirms our hope;
Its cities’ fall but lifts us up,
To meet thee in the skies. MIM 89.1
4 Thy tokens we with joy confess;
The war proclaims thee Prince of peace;
The earthquake speaks thy power;
The famine all thy fulness brings;
The plague presents thy healing wings
And nature’s final hour. MIM 89.2
5 Whatever ills the world befal,
A pledge of endless good we call,
A sign of Jesus near.
His chariot will not long delay;
We hear the rumbling wheels, and pray.
“Triumphant Lord, appear!” MIM 89.3
6 Appear with clouds on Sion’s hill,
Thy word and mystery to fulfil,
Thy confessors t’ approve; Thy members on thy throne to place
And stamp thy name on every face,
In glorious, heavenly love. MIM 89.4