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The Hallowed Spot
There is a spot to me more dear
Than native vale or mountain;
A spot for which affection’s tear
Springs grateful from its fountain.
’Tis not where kindred souls abound,
Though that is almost Heaven,
But where I first my Savior found,
And felt my sins forgiven.
Hard was my toil to reach the shore,
Long tossed upon the ocean;
Above me was the thunder’s roar,
Beneath, the wave’s commotion.
Darkly the pall of night was thrown
Around me faint with terror;
In that dark hour how did my groan
Ascend for years of error.
Sinking and panting as for breath
I knew not help was near me;
I cried, “Oh, save me, Lord from death,
Immortal Jesus, hear me.”
Then quick as thought I felt Him mine,
My Savior stood before me;
I saw His brightness round me shine,
And shouted “Glory, Glory.”
O sacred hour! O hallowed spot!
Where love divine first found me;
Wherever falls my distant lot,
My heart shall linger round thee.
And when from earth I rise, to soar
Up to my home in Heaven,
Down will I cast my eyes once more,
Where I was first forgiven.
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