134    L.M.     J. Brewer
Christ the Sinner’s Hiding-place. Ps. 32. 7

1 Hail, sovereign love, that first began
  The scheme to rescue fallen man!
  Hail, matchless, free, eternal grace,
  That gave my soul a hiding-place!

2 [Against the God who rules the sky
  I fought with hand uplifted high;
  Despised the mention of his grace,
  Too proud to seek a hiding-place.

3 But thus the eternal counsel ran:
  “Almighty love, arrest that man!”
  I felt the arrows of distress,
  And found I had no hiding-place.

4 Indignant Justice stood in view;
  To Sinai’s fiery mount I flew;
  But Justice cried, with frowning face,
  “This mountain is no hiding-place!”

5 Ere long a heavenly voice I heard,
  And Mercy’s angel-form appeared;
  She led me on, with placid pace,
  To Jesus, as my Hiding-place.]

6 Should storms of seven-fold thunder roll,
  And shake the globe from pole to pole,
  No flaming bolt could daunt my face,
  For Jesus is my Hiding-place.

7 On him almighty vengeance fell,
  That must have sunk a world to hell;
  He bore it for a chosen race,
  And thus became their Hiding-place.

8 A few more rolling suns, at most,
  Will land me on fair Canaan’s coast,
  Where I shall sing the song of grace,
  And see my glorious Hiding-place.