Family Hymns (1767)
| Author | Charles Wesley |
|---|---|
| Type | hymn-collection |
| Year | 1767 |
| Passage ID | cw-duke-family-hymns-1767-037 |
| Words | 366 |
| Source | https://divinity.duke.edu/initiatives/wesleyan-methodist/... |
Worship, and power, and thanks, and love To God, the gracious God and true, Whose faithfulness again we prove, And mercies every moment new: Jesus hath heard his people's prayer, Our child reviv'd, our son re-given: Let all his healing name declare, And spread his praise thro' earth and heaven. Saviour, we at thy hands receive This pledge of greater good to come, And to thy wise disposal leave Whom thou hast ransom'd from the tomb: The child, no longer ours, but thine, Ev'n from his earliest infancy To thee we chearfully resign, A servant of thy church and thee. While here our Samuel we present, With favour, Lord, accept the loan, To thee irrevocably lent, And bless and seal him for thine own: Page 80 Devoted from his infant days, O may he in thy courts be found, Grow up to minister thy grace, And spread thro' earth the gospel-sound. For a Child Cutting His Teeth. Suffering for another's sin, Why should innocence complain? Sin by Adam enter'd in, Sin ingendring grief and pain: Sin entail'd on all our race, Forces harmless babes to cry, Born to sorrow and distress, Born to feel, lament, and die. Tortur'd in his tender frame, Strugling with convulsive throes, Doth he not aloud proclaim Guilt the cause of all our woes? Guilt, whose sad effects appear, Guilt original we own, See it in that starting tear, Hear it in that heaving groan! Man's intemperate offence In its punishment we read; Speechless, by his aching sense Guilty doth our infant plead; Instruments of sin and pain, Signs of guilt and misery Eve's incontinence explain, Point us to the tasted tree. There the bitter root we find, Fatal source of nature's ill, Ill which all our fallen kind With this young apostate feel: Page 81 But what we can ne'er remove Jesus came to sanctify, Second Adam from above Born for us to live and die. Help, the woman's heavenly seed, Thou that didst our sorrows take, Turn aside the death decreed, Save him for thy nature's sake! Pitying Son of man and God, Still thy creature's pains indure; Quench the fever with thy blood, Bless him with a perfect cure.