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Chari.ks Wesley (1707-1788).
TE8U.S, Lover of my soul, Ijot 1110 to tliy bosom fly, Wliile the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is high ; Hide me, my Saviour, hide,
Till the storm of life is past ; Safe into the haven guide ; Oh 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 defenceless head
With the shadow of thy wing.
Thou, Christ, art all I want ;
More than 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 : False and full of sin I am ;
Thou art full of truth and grace.
Plenteous grace with thee is found,
Grace to cover all my sin ; Let the healing streams abound ;
Make and keep me pure within : Thou of life the fountain art,
Freely lot me take of thee ; Spring thou up within my heart,
Rise to all eternity.
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