Jesus, lover of my soul,

Nov 17, 2015 | France

Welcome to this lovely version that Linda Louisa Entwistle has written of one of Charles Wesley’s best loved hymns. Right at the beginning you will hear the remarkable context in which it is said to have been written. Charles Wesley was preaching in the fields of the parish of Killyleagh, County Down, Ireland, when he was attacked by men who disapproved of his doctrines.
Seeking refuge in a house located on what was known as the Island Barn Farm, the farmer’s wife, Jane Lowrie Moore, told him to hide in the milk house, down in the garden. When the mob came in search of Wesley, she offered them refreshments, whilst at the same time arranging for Wesley to escape through the rear window and to hide under the hedge until they had gone. We can well imagine how such an episode would have fuelled what was destined to become an immortal hymn, which majors on the theme of God being a refuge from physical danger and every kind of temptation.

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 Saviour, hide,
Till the storm of life is past;
Safe into the haven guide;
Oh, 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 defenceless head
With the shadow of Thy wing.

Wilt Thou not regard my call?
Wilt Thou not accept my prayer?
Lo! I sink, I faint, I fall—
Lo! on Thee I cast my care.
Reach me out Thy gracious hand!
While I of Thy strength receive,
Hoping against hope I stand,
Dying, and behold, I live.

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,
Source of all true righteousness;
Thou art evermore the same,
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.

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