Thou Art My Hiding Place, O Lord

Thou art my hid­ing place

O Lord

In Thee I put my trust;

Encouraged by Thy ho­ly Word

A fee­ble child of dust;

I have no ar­gu­ment be­side

I urge no oth­er plea;

And ’tis enough my Sav­ior died

My Sav­ior died for me.

When storms of fierce temp­ta­tion beat

And fur­ious foes as­sail

My re­fuge is the mer­cy seat

My hope with­in the veil.

From strife of tongues and bit­ter words

My spir­it flies to Thee:

Joy to my heart the thought af­fords

My Sav­ior died for me.

’Mid tri­als hea­vy to the be borne

When mor­tal strength is vain

A heart with grief and ang­uish torn

A bo­dy racked with pain

Ah! what could the suf­fer­er rest

Bid ev­ery mur­mur flee

But this

the wit­ness in my breast

That Je­sus died for me?

And when Thine aw­ful voice com­mands

This bo­dy to de­cay

And life

in its last lin­ger­ing sands

Is ebb­ing fast away

Then

though it be in ac­cents weak

And faint and trem­bling­ly

O give me strength in death to speak

My Sav­ior died for me.