Christ the Sinner’s Hiding-place. Ps. 32. 7

J. Brewer                                     L.M.

Hail, sovereign love, that first began
The scheme to rescue fallen man!
Hail, matchless, free, eternal grace,
That gave my soul a hiding-place!

[Against the God who rules the sky
I fought with hand uplifted high;
Despised the mention of his grace,
Too proud to seek a hiding-place.

But thus the eternal counsel ran:
“Almighty love, arrest that man!”
I felt the arrows of distress,
And found I had no hiding-place.

Indignant Justice stood in view;
To Sinai’s fiery mount I flew;
But Justice cried, with frowning face,
“This mountain is no hiding-place!”

Ere long a heavenly voice I heard,
And Mercy’s angel-form appeared;
She led me on, with placid pace,
To Jesus, as my Hiding-place.]

Should storms of seven-fold thunder roll,
And shake the globe from pole to pole,
No flaming bolt could daunt my face,
For Jesus is my Hiding-place.

On him almighty vengeance fell,
That must have sunk a world to hell;
He bore it for a chosen race,
And thus became their Hiding-place.

A few more rolling suns, at most,
Will land me on fair Canaan’s coast,
Where I shall sing the song of grace,
And see my glorious Hiding-place.


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