-
Jesus, lover of my soul, let me to thy bosom fly, while the waters nearby roll; while the tempest still is high, hide me! O my savior hide, till the storm of life is past; Safe into the haven glide, O receive my soul at last.
-
Jesus, lover of my soul, let me to thy bosom fly, while the waters nearby roll; while the tempest still is high, hide me! O my savior hide, till the storm of life is past; Safe into the haven glide, O receive my soul at last.
-