“You are my hiding place; You will protect me from trouble and surround me
with songs of deliverance.” ~ Psalm 32:7
Major John Andre was executed as a spy during the American Revolution. The following poem is said to have been found in his clothes by the soldiers who buried him. The words are variously attributed to him, though its true author was an English preacher, Jehoiada Brewer.
I’m not much of a poetic guy—I tend toward the “roses-are-red-violets-are-blue” kind of verse. And when people are touched by a poem and share it with me, I comply with a silly smile and nod inanely, like a bobblehead doll. However, dulled as I am, I can appreciate this one:
Hail, Sovereign Love that first began,
The scheme to rescue fallen man;
Hail matchless free eternal grace,
That gave my soul a hiding place.
Against the God who rules the sky,
I fought with hand uplifted high,
Despised His rich abounding grace,
Too proud to seek a hiding place.
Enwrapped in thick Egyptian night,
And fond of darkness more than light,
Madly I ran the sinful race,
And found I had no hiding place.
Ere long a heavenly voice I heard,
And Mercy’s angel form appeared.
Who led me on with gentle pace,
To Jesus Christ, my hiding place.
On Him Almighty vengeance fell,
That must have sunk a world to hell;
He bore it for a chosen race,
And thus became their hiding place.
Should storms of thundering vengeance roll,
And shake the earth from pole to pole;
No flaming bolt shall daunt my face,
For Jesus is my hiding place.
A few more rolling suns at most,
Will land me safe on Heaven’s coast.
There I shall sing the song of grace,
To Jesus Christ, my hiding place!
On this day, may you find yourself secure in The Hiding Place…all to the praise of His glory! Henry