A comfort in age.

THE soul that on Jesus hath lean'd for repose, I will not, I will not desert to its foes; E'en down to old age all my people shall prove, My sov'reign, eternal, unchangeable love;

And then, when gray hairs shall their temples adorn, Like lambs they shall still in my bosom be borne; That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake, I'll never, no, never, no, never forsake!