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Chari.ks Wesley (1707-1788).

TE8U.S, Lover of my soul, Ijot 1110 to tliy bosom fly, Wliile the nearer waters roll,

While the tempest still is high ; Hide me, my Saviour, hide,

Till the storm of life is past ; Safe into the haven guide ; Oh receive my soul at last !

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.

Thou, 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.

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 lot me take of thee ; Spring thou up within my heart,

Rise to all eternity.

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