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Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to Thy bosom fly.
While the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is high!
Hide me, O my Savior, hide—

Till the storm of life is past;
Safe into the haven guide,
O 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 defenseless head
With the shadow of Thy wing.

Thou, O 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 let me take of Thee;
Spring Thou up within my heart;
Rise to all eternity.

—Charles Wesley, 1707-1788