Salvation in the Cross. Isa. 12. 2, 3; 1 Cor. 2. 2
I. Watts L.M.
1
Here at thy cross, my dying God,
I lay my soul beneath thy love,
Beneath the droppings of thy blood,
Jesus, nor shall it e’er remove.
2
Not all that tyrants think or say,
With rage and lightning in their eyes,
Nor hell shall fright my heart away,
Should hell with all its legions rise.
3
Should worlds conspire to drive me thence,
Moveless and firm this heart shall lie;
Resolved (for that’s my last defence),
If I must perish, there to die.
4
But speak, my Lord, and calm my fear;
Am I not safe beneath thy shade?
Thy vengeance will not strike me here,
Nor Satan dares my soul invade.
5
Yes, I’m secure beneath thy blood,
And all my foes shall lose their aim;
Hosannah to my dying God,
And my best honours to his name!
