ONE DAY when Mr. Wesley was sitting by an open window a frightened little bird attracted his attention. Just then a hawk came swooping down towards the little thing. In its extreme terror, the bird flew towards the open window and with beating heart and quivering wing it found a refuge in Mr. Wesley’s bosom. He sheltered it from its adversary and saved it from a cruel death.
Just at that time Mr. Wesley was himself suffering from severe trials and was feeling the need of refuge in his own time of trouble as much as did the trembling little bird that nestled so safely in his breast. So he took up his pen and wrote that sweet hymn in which these words are found:
Jesus, Lover of my soul,
Let me to Thy bosom fly;
While the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is nigh.
~~~
Other refuge have I none —
Hangs my helpless soul on Thee;
Leave, O leave me not alone;
Still support and comfort me.
ML-12/24/1972