by John Cox.
Originally published in The Christian's Penny Magazine (C. Wood and Son) vol.3 #83 (04 Jan 1834).
Fly, trembling trav'ller, mend thy pace,
Across this even plain;
Th' avenger comes with horrid haste,
Rage swells in every vein.
Alas! his weary feet refuse
T' obey his eager mind:
Arise! despair's last effort use,
For death fast drives behind.
I see the friendly gates wide thrown
With his last strength he flies.
He enters! all his fears are gone,
Now he his foe defies.
Immanuel! thou my refuge art,
My glorious hiding-place;
Thy flowing blood, thy wounded heart,
Shall save from wrath's fierce blaze.
By dire necessity comnell'd,
For other helps all fail'd,
To thee I flew, to thee I cried;
My cries with thee prcvail'd.
O happy day! O glorious grace!
For I in thee have found
A safe retreat, a solid peace,
A balm for every wound.
Here heavenly freedom's air I breathe,
For my High Priest hath died;
Here I defy sin, hell, and death;
And here I'm satisfied.
Ye trembling souls, with courage seek,
This glorious Refuge view:
God will not his firm promise break.
Nor Jesus cast out you.
Dwell on his "uttermost" but who
His "uttermost" can trace?
Your ardent cries to him renew,
And you his love shall taste.