Dare not in thy presence move;
To my waiting soul reveal
The secret of thy love.
983. L. M. 8l. H. Ballou, 2d.
"A Hiding-place from the Wind," &c.
1When dread misfortune's tempests rise,
And roar through all the darkened skies,
Where shall the anxious pilgrim gain
A shelter from the wind and rain?
Within the covert of thy grace,