Now Israel may say, and that in truth, If that the Lord had not our right maintained, If that the Lord had not with us remained, When cruel men against us rose to strive, We surely had been swallowed up alive.
Yea, when their wrath against us fiercely rose, The swelling tide had o’er us spread its wave, The raging stream had then become our grave, The surging flood, in proudly swelling roll, Most surely then had overwhelmed our soul.
Blest be the Lord, who made us not their prey; As from the snare a bird escapeth free, Their net is rent and so escaped are we; Our only help is in God’s holy Name, Who made the earth and all the heavenly frame.
If God had not been on our side And had not come to aid us, The foes with all their power and pride Would surely have dismayed us; For we, His flock, would have to fear The threat of men both far and near Who rise in might against us.
Their furious wrath, did God permit, Would surely have consumed us And as a deep and yawning pit With life and limb entombed us. Like men o’er whom dark waters roll Their wrath would have engulfed our soul And, like a flood, o’erwhelmed us.
Blest be the Lord, who foiled their threat That they could not devour us; Our souls, like birds, escaped their net, They could not overpower us. The snare is broken—we are free! Our help is ever, Lord, in Thee, Who madest earth and Heaven.
I walked in the woodland meadows, Where sweet the thrushes sing, And found on a bed of mosses, A bird with a broken wing; I healed its wing, and each morning It sang its old sweet strain, But the bird with the broken pinion, Never soared as high again, Never soared as high again.
I found a young life broken By sin’s seductive art, And, touched with a Christlike pity, I took him to my heart; He lived with a nobler purpose, And struggled not in vain, But the life that sin had stricken, Never soared as high again, Never soared as high again.
But the bird with the broken pinion Kept another from the snare, The life that sin had stricken, Raised another from despair; Each loss has its own compensation, There’s healing for each pain, But the bird with the broken pinion Never soared as high again, Never soared as high again.