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“And a man shall be as a hiding place.” Isa. 32. 2

J. Kent                       C.M.

1
How welcome to the tempest-tossed,
Amidst the storm’s career,
While horror spreads from coast to coast,
Is some kind haven near!

2
But far more welcome to the soul
Is that secure abode,
(When terrors o’er the conscience roll)
The Rock prepared of God.

3
Jesus, arrayed in mortal form,
Of whom the prophets tell,
On his dear head, O what a storm
Of awful vengeance fell!

4
To him, my only Hiding-place,
Let me for shelter fly;
The storm of death draws on apace,
And who can say how nigh?

5
In that dread moment, O to hide
Beneath his sheltering blood!
’Twill Jordan’s icy waves divide,
And land my soul with God.