Thou Art My Hiding-Place, O Lord,
In Thee I Put My Trust;
Encouraged By Thy Holy Word,
A Feeble Child Of Dust;
I Have No Argument Beside,
I Urge No Other Plea;
And ‘Tis Enough My Saviour Died,
My Saviour Died For Me.
When Storms Of Fierce Temptation Beat,
And Furious Foes Assail,
My Refuge Is The Mercy-Seat,
My Hope Within The Veil,
From Strife Of Tongues And Bitter Words
My Spirit Flies To Thee:
Joy To My Heart The Thought Affords,
My Saviour Died For Me.
Mid Trials, Heavy To Be Borne,
When Mortal Strength Is Vain,
A Heart With Grief And Anguish Torn,
A Body Racked With Pain,-
Ah! What Could Give The Sufferer Rest,
Bid Every Murmur Flee,
But This, The Witness In My Breast,
My Saviour Died For Me.
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