Tempted; but Flying to Christ the Refuge. Ps. 57. 1
C. Wesley 7s
1
Jesus, Lover of my soul,
Let me to thy bosom fly,
While the raging billows roll,
While the tempest still is high.
Hide me, O my Saviour, hide,
Till the storm of life is past;
Safe into the haven guide;
O receive my soul at last!
2
[Other refuge have I none,
Hangs my helpless soul on thee;
Leave, ah! leave me not alone;
Still support and comfort me.
All my trust on thee is stayed;
All my help from thee I bring;
Cover my defenceless head
With the shadow of thy wing.]
3
Thou, O Christ, art all I want;
All in all in thee I find;
Raise the fallen, cheer the faint,
Heal the sick, and lead the blind.
Just and holy is thy name;
I am all unrighteousness;
Vile and full of sin I am;
Thou art full of truth and grace;
4
Plenteous grace with thee is found;
Grace to pardon all my sin;
Let the healing streams abound;
Make and keep me pure within.
Thou of life the Fountain art;
Freely let me take of thee;
Spring thou up within my heart,
Rise to all eternity.
