1093    C.M.     J. Kent
“And a man shall be as a hiding place.” Isa. 32. 2

1 How welcome to the tempest-tossed,
  Amidst the storm’s career,
  While horror spreads from coast to coast,
  Is some kind haven near!

2 But far more welcome to the soul
  Is that secure abode,
  (When terrors o’er the conscience roll)
  The Rock prepared of God.

3 Jesus, arrayed in mortal form,
  Of whom the prophets tell,
  On his dear head, O what a storm
  Of awful vengeance fell!

4 To him, my only Hiding-place,
  Let me for shelter fly;
  The storm of death draws on apace,
  And who can say how nigh?

5 In that dread moment, O to hide
  Beneath his sheltering blood!
  ’Twill Jordan’s icy waves divide,
  And land my soul with God.