Wesley Corpus

The love which brought him from the skies, Which made his soul a sacrifice Visits me in this pain, He bids me taste his passion's cup, And fill his mournful measure up, That I with him may reign. Not that the sufferings I endure His Father's favour can procure, Or for my sins atone: Jesus alone the wine-press trod, Answer'd the just demands of God, And paid my debt alone. Page 90 Nor can my utmost griefs or pains Purge out th' original remains, Or kill the root of sin: That blood which did my pardon buy, That only blood must sanctify, And wash my nature clean. Yes, O thou all-redeeming Lamb, The virtue of thy balmy name Restores my inward peace, Thy death doth all my guilt remove, Thy life shall fill my heart with love And perfect holiness. Faith in thy powerful love I have, Thou wilt the helpless sinner save Who fain to thee would go: Thou dost from time to time reprieve, 'Till I my pardon seal'd receive, And all thy fulness know. I own thy kind design on me, The meaning of thy patience see; Thou hast my manners borne, That sav'd, before I hence depart, Lowly, and meek, and pure in heart, I may to God return. Accomplish then thy gracious end, And bid my happy soul ascend In holiness compleat, The meanest of that heavenly throng Who sing thine own eternal song, And triumph at thy feet. For the Morning. Giver of every good, To praise thy love I wake, Page 91 Thy love the balmy sleep bestow'd For my Redeemer's sake; Thy love kept off the pain That oft invades my breast, And bids my soul aspire again To its eternal rest. To thee in Christ my peace Again I humbly turn, My past ingratitude confess, My life of folly mourn; A life how dark and void! A long-continu'd blot! Talents or hid, or misemploy'd, And benefits forgot. My virtues false and vain, My justest works unjust, Not one but gives my conscience pain, And lays me in the dust: But worse than all I find The bitter root within, The beastly heart, the devilish mind, The hell of inbred sin.