Hearken, little fold of Zion, All Her children now give ear,

While on earth the war is raging, Thy Defender shall be near,

He who formed thee for His glory, Shall not leave thee to the foe,

He will keep thee every moment here below.

He doth never sleep or slumber, He shall hear thy every cry,

All who lay a hand against thee, Touch the apple of His eye,

Thou art clothed with garments glorious, And adorned with jewels rare,

Oh, thou precious Bride of Christ, How art thou fair!

He beholdeth thee with favor, And rejoiceth in thy love,

Where was once the voice of mourning, Now is heard the turtle dove,

Thou art not thine own possession, For He purchased thee with blood,

And hath drawn thee in with bands and cords of love.

He hath set His mark upon thee, And hath called thee by His name,

Tho' thou once wast termed Forsaken, Thou shalt nevermore know shame,

Thou art His betroth'd forever, And thou evermore shall see,

His eternal loving-kindness unto thee.

When thou passest thru the waters, They shall not thee overflow,

when thou walkest thru the fire, Perfect safety thou shalt know,

Every weapon formed against thee, Shall be broken out of hand,

Who would harm thee, with Jehovah must contend.

Soon will be the consummation, Of the fullness of His love,

When His fold the Lord will gather, To the wedding feast above,

He who freely gave His life-blood, To betroth thee unto Him,

In His faithfulness shall keep thee to the end.