My Expectation

 •  1 min. read  •  grade level: 2
(Heb. 12 Psa. 62;121)
To God, my God, I lift mine eyes,
A child expecting aid,
From Zion's hill to Zion's God
Who heaven and earth has made.
Then thou, my soul, in safety rest:
Thy Guardian will not sleep;
From depths beyond mount Zion's stores,
Thy Father helps his sheep.
Sheltered beneath His mighty wings,
The Son of God thy rest-
His Gift to thee and Hiding place.
Eternally possest.
" The City of the living God,"
To which we've also come,
The glory of His grace unfolds,
Whose love shall bear thee home.
A Power down from heaven's heights
The feeblest lamb may know-
" The Hope of glory," hidden there,
Working in us below.
Ere yet the covenant of grace
Shall Israel's sheep unfold,
The Mediator we possess
" His goings—from of old."
Encourage, then, thyself in Him;
His fountains drink, my soul,
From whom thine expectation is
Whatever surges roll.
At home, abroad, in peace, in war,
That God shall thee defend—
Conduct thee through thy pilgrimage
Safe to thy journey's end.