Scripture Verse

I am Thine; save me. Psalm 119:94


Words: Charles Wes­ley, Hymns and Sac­red Po­ems 1739.

Music: Lest We For­get George F. Blan­chard, 1898 (🔊 pdf nwc).

Alternate Tune:

If you know where to get a good pho­to of Blanchard (head & shoul­ders, at least 200×300 pix­els),

Charles Wesley (1707–1788)


Just before the Ma­ria mail-boat struck on the reefs near An­ti­gua in Fe­bru­ary, 1826, little Wil­ly White, one of the mis­sion­ary child­ren on board, gave out, with an em­pha­sis and ser­ious­ness which were much no­ticed, the verse ‘Though waves and storms go o’er my head,’ and talked to his small com­pan­ions about Jo­nah and other Bi­ble stor­ies.

Mrs. Jones, wife of one of the mis­sion­ar­ies, was much com­fort­ed by the verse, ‘Je­sus pro­tects; my fears, be gone!’ and sang ‘When pass­ing through the wa­tery deep.’

The mail-boat broke up, and all the party were drowned—five mis­sion­ar­ies, two mis­sion­ar­ies’ wives, four child­ren, and two nurs­es—save Mrs. Jones, who was res­cued on Fri­day morn­ing, af­ter be­ing in the wa­ter from Tues­day morning.

In 1832 she mar­ried Mr. Hincks­man, of Pres­ton. On her death-bed in Ap­ril, 1859, when she could scarce­ly speak, she asked that the hymn which had com­fort­ed her in that time of ship­wreck might be sung, and found that it was still full of strong con­so­la­tion.

Telford, pp. 289–90


Peace, doubt­ing heart! my God’s I am;
Who formed me man, for­bids my fear;
The Lord hath called me by my name;
The Lord pro­tects, for ev­er near;
His blood for me did once atone,
And still He loves and guards His own.

When pass­ing through the wa­tery deep,
I ask in faith His pro­mised aid,
The waves all aw­ful dist­ance keep,
And shrink from my de­vot­ed head;
Fearless their vi­olence I dare;
They can­not harm, for God is there!

To Him mine eye of faith I turn,
And through the fire pur­sue my way;
The fire for­gets its pow­er to burn,
The lam­bent flames around me play;
I own His pow­er, acc­ept the sign,
And shout to prove the Sav­ior mine.

Still nigh me, O my Sav­ior, stand!
And guard in fierce temp­ta­tion’s hour;
Hide in the hol­low of Thy hand,
Show forth in me Thy sav­ing pow­er,
Still be Thy arms my sure de­fense,
Nor earth nor hell shall pluck me thence.

Since Thou hast bid me come to Thee,
Good as Thou art, and strong to save
I’ll walk o’er life’s tem­pes­tu­ous sea,
Upborne by the un­yield­ing wave,
Dauntless, though rocks of pride be near,
And yawn­ing whirl­pools of des­pair.

When dark­ness in­ter­cepts the skies,
And sor­row’s waves around me roll,
When high the storms of pass­ion rise,
And half o’er­whelm my sink­ing soul,
My soul a sud­den calm shall feel,
And hear a whis­per, Peace; be still!

Though in af­flict­ion’s fur­nace tried,
Unhurt on snares and death I’ll tread;
Though sin as­sail, and hell, thrown wide,
Pour all its flames up­on my head,
Like Mo­ses’ bush, I’ll mount the high­er,
And flour­ish un­con­sumed in fire.