1 Where shall we sinners hide our heads,
Can rocks or mountains save?
Or shall we wrap us in the shades
Of midnight and the grave?
2 Is there no shelter from the eye
Of a revenging God?
Jesus, to thy dear wounds we fly,
Bedew us with thy blood.
3 Those guardian drops our souls secure,
And wash away our sins;
Eternal justice frowns no more,
And conscience smiles within.
4 We bless that wondrous purple stream
That cleanses every stain;
Yet are our souls but half redeemed,
If sin, the tyrant, reign.
5 Lord, blast his empire with thy breath,
That cursed throne must fall;
Ye flattering plagues, that work our death,
Fly, for we hate you all.
The Hartford Selection of Hymns from the most approved authors, 1799