225b Martin
Jesus, refuge 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! 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 defenseless head With the shadow of Thy wing. |