I wrapped myself in the blanket this morning that the Rice family gave me at Mom's funeral. It has a pretty picture and "Under His Wings" printed on it. It was a symbol for me to do so. That is where I reside. Though the tempest has been wild lately, no person can cut my ties from God. Though no healing is offered there is a balm from heaven.
Under His wings I am safely abiding,
Though the night deepens and tempests are wild,
Still I can trust Him; I know He will keep me,
He has redeemed me, and I am His child.
Under His wings, under His wings,
Who from His love can sever?
Under His wings my soul shall abide,
Safely abide forever.
Under His wings, what a refuge in sorrow!
How the heart yearningly turns to His rest!
Often when earth has no balm for my healing,
There I find comfort, and there I am blessed.
Under His wings, oh, what precious enjoyment!
There will I hide till life’s trials are o’er;
Sheltered, protected, no evil can harm me,
Resting in Jesus, I’m safe evermore.
Words: William O. Cushing, 1896.
Music: Ira D. Sankey