559
C. M.
Tempest-tossed.
O Jesus, Saviour of the lost,
My Rock and Hiding-place,
By storms of sin and sorrow tost,
I seek thy sheltering grace.
2 Guilty, forgive me, Lord! I cry;
Pursued by foes, I come;
A sinner, save me, or I die;
An outcast, take me home.
3 Once safe in thine almighty arms,
Let storms come on amain;
There danger never, never harms;
There death itself is gain.
4 And when I stand before thy throne
And all thy glory see,
Still be my righteousness alone
To hide myself in thee.
Bickersteth.