3727 7. 7 7. D
JESUS, 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!
2  Other refuge have I none;
    Hangs my helpless soul on Thee;
Leave, ah! leave me not alone,
    Still support and comfort me:
All my trust on Thee is stayed;
    All my help from Thee I bring;
Cover my defenceless head
    With the shadow of Thy wing.
3  Thou, O Christ, art all I want;
    More than all in Thee I find;
Raise the fallen, cheer the faint,
    Heal the sick, and lead the blind.
Just and holy is Thy name,
    I am all unrighteousness;
False, and full of sin I am,
    Thou art full of truth and grace.
4  Plenteous grace with Thee is found,
    Grace to cover all my sin;
Let the healing streams abound,
    Make and keep me pure within.
Thou of life the fountain art,
    Freely let me take of Thee;
Spring Thou up within my heart,
    Rise to all eternity.
Charles Wesley, 1707-88