Jesus ! Thou art my hiding-place
From what my sin demands;
I cling to Thine amazing grace,
Thy feet, Thy side, Thy hands.

Jesus ! Thou art my hiding-place
In storm and tempest here;
Though weak, I know Thy love's embrace,
And cast away my fear.

And Thou wilt be my hiding-place
Should death be hoovering round:
Thou wilt bestow sufficient grace
To make my hope abound.