CXXIX. To the haven of thy breast

1 To the haven of thy breast,
O son of man, I fly,
Be my refuge and my rest,
For O the storm is high!
Save me from the furious blast
A covert from the tempest be;
Hide me Jesus, till o'er past
The storm of sin I see.

2 Welcome as the water-spring
To a dry barren place;
O descend on me and bring
The sweet refreshing grace;
O'er the parch'd and weary land
As a great rock extends its shade,
Hide me Saviour, with thine hand,
And screen my naked head.

3 In the time of my distress
Thou hast my succour been;
In my utter helplessness
Restraining me from sin:
O how swiftly didst thou move
To save me in the trying hour!
Still protect me with thy love,
And shield me with thy pow'r.

4 First and last in me perform
The work thou hast begun;
Be my shelter from the storm,
My shadow from the sun:
Let me hang upon my God,
Till I thy perfect glory see,
Till the sprinkling of thy blood
Shall take me up to thee.

Text Information
First Line: To the haven of thy breast
Meter: P. M.
Language: English
Publication Date: 1816
Notes: Now Public Domain.
Tune Information
(No tune information)



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