The birds have their nests
and the foxes their holes.
But you were homeless, Lord Jesus,
with nowhere to rest your head.
And yet you were a hiding-place
where sinners could flee.
I hide myself under your wings,
and your wings cover the multitude of my sins.
Søren Kierkegaard, 1813 – 1855 Danish philosopher, theologian and author
You are my hiding place;
you will protect me from trouble
and surround me with songs of deliverance.