Christ a Refuge from the Storm. Isa. 4. 6; 32. 2

J. Kent                 L.M.

Great Rock, for weary sinners made,
 When storms of sin distress the soul,
 Here let me rest my weary head,
 When lightnings blaze and thunders roll.

Within the clefts of his dear side,
 There all his saints in safety dwell.
 And what from Jesus shall divide?
 Not all the rage of earth or hell.

Blessed with the pardon of her sin,
 My soul beneath thy shade would lie,
 And sing the love that took me in,
 While others sank in sin to die.

O sacred covert from the beams
 That on the weary traveller beat,
 How welcome are thy shade and streams;
 How blest, how sacred, and how sweet!


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