428 Withhold not, Lord, the help I crave,

1 Withhold not, Lord, the help I crave, Forsake not, nor forget me, For from the cradle to the grave A thousand foes beset me. Alas! Thy child, Deceived, beguiled, To guide himself unable, In devious ways Of error strays, Blind, feeble, and unstable. 2 To guard and keep me, never cease, From all that is defiling; Preserve me also from false peace, When life is smooth and smiling. Should dangers rise, And me surprise, And clouds around me gather, Teach me to pray, And childlike say, "Help me, my God and Father!" 3 Let me throughout my life esteem Thy word as precious manna, And make Thy name my constant My song and my Hosanna; [thene, Thy Son alone The gracious throne, Where I may find compassion; His precious blood My strength and food, And shield against temptation. 4 Then take not, Lord, Thy hand away, Withdraw not Thy protection, But grant me to the grave, I pray, Thy guidance and direction. At my last end I will commend To Thee my soul and spirit; Then shall I be, My God, with Thee, And endless joy inherit.