Jesu, Lover of my soul,
Let me to Thy Bosom fly;
While the nearer waters 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.
"Ay, that's it, that's it," said the Scotchman, "it's a hymn I dinna ken, but it goes to the heart of things. Man, can ye recite to me the twenty-third Psalm?"
"Nay," replied Tom, "I forget which it is."
"That's because you were born and reared in a godless country," replied the Scotchman. "No Scottish lad ever forgets the twenty-third Psalm, especially those who canna thole the paraphrases. 'The Lord is my Shepherd,' surely ye ken that, Tom?"
"Ay," replied Tom eagerly, "I know that."
Then the two lads recited the psalm together:
"The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.
"He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside still waters.
"He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His Name's sake.
"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me."