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The subtle spider often weaves
His unsuspected snares,
Among the balmy flow�rs and leaves,
To which the bee repairs.
When in his web he sees one hang,
With a malicious joy,
He darts upon it with his fang,
To poison and destroy.
How welcome then, some pitying friend,
To save the threatened bee!
The spider�s treach�rous web to rend,
And set the captive free!
My soul has been in such a case,
When first I knew the LORD,
I hasted to the means of grace,
Where sweets I knew were stored.
Little I thought of danger near,
That soon my joys would ebb;
But ah! I met a spider there,
Who caught me in his web.
Then Satan raised his pois�nous sting,
And aimed his blows at me;
While I, poor helpless trembling thing,
Could neither fight nor flee.
But O! the Savior�s pitying eye
Relieved me from despair;
He saw me at the point to die
And broke the fatal snare.
My case his heedless saints should warn,
Or cheer them if afraid;
May you from me your danger learn,
And where to look for aid.
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marker 99
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LYRICS
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Meter:
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8 6 8 6 (C.M.)
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Writer(s):
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Dates:
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Bible Refs:
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echo ' | ';
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Hymn Writer
