There is a spot to me more dear
Than native vale or mountain;
A spot to which affection's tear
Springs grateful from its fountain;
'Tis not where kindred souls abound --
Tho' that is almost heaven --
But where I first my Savior found,
And felt my sins forgiven.

2 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 groans
Ascend for years of error.

3 Sinking and panting as for breath,
I knew not help was nigh me,
And cried, O 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.

4 O sacred hour, O hallowed spot!
Where love divine first found me;
Wherever falls my distant lot,
My heart shall linger round thee:
And as 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.

William Hunter, D. D.