Jesus, Lover of my soul,

Let me to thy bosom fly,

While the nearer waters roll,

While the tempest still is high:

Hide me, oh, my Saviour, hide,

Till the storm of life be past;

Safe into the haven guide,

Oh, receive my soul at last.

15
THERE IS A LAND OF PURE DELIGHT.
Can. Hym’l, No. 254.

ALKOMAYLUM