“And a man shall be as an hiding-place from the wind, and a covert from the tempest: as rivers of water in a dry place, as the shadow of a great rock in a weary land.” 1 TO the haven of Thy breast, O Son of Man, I fly: Be my refuge and my rest; For O, the storm is high! Save me from the furious blast, A covert from the tempest be; Hide me, Jesu, till o’erpast The storm of sin I see. 2 Welcome as the water-spring To a dry, barren place, O descend on me, and bring Thy sweet refreshing grace;