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 be borne,

When mortal strength is vain,

A heart with grief and anguish torn,

A body racked with pain,

Ah! what could give the sufferer rest,

Bid every murmur flee,

But this, the witness in my breast

That Jesus died for me?