How Happy Are the Little Flock

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

Removed above the storm they lie

They lodge in Je­sus’ breast

They lodge in Je­sus’ breast.

Such hap­pi­ness

O Lord

have we

By mer­cy ga­thered in­to Thee

Before the floods des­cend:

And while the burst­ing clouds come down

We mark the venge­ful day be­gun

And calm­ly wait the end

And calm­ly wait the end.

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

To meet Thee in the skies.

Thy to­kens we with joy con­fess:

The war pro­claims the Prince of Peace

The earth­quake speaks Thy pow­er

The fa­mine all Thy full­ness brings

The plague pre­sents Thy heal­ing wings

And na­ture’s fi­nal hour

And nature’s fi­nal hour.

Whatever ills the world be­fall

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!

Triumphant Lord

ap­pear!

Appear with clouds on Zi­on’s hill

Thy word and mys­te­ry to ful­fill

Thy con­fess­ors to ap­prove

Thy mem­bers on Thy throne to place

And stamp Thy name on ev­ery face

In glo­ri­ous

heav­en­ly love!

In glo­ri­ous

heav­en­ly love!