Wesley Corpus

With earnest desire After thee we aspire, And long thy appearing to see; 'Till our souls thou receive In thy presence to live, And be perfectly happy in thee. Come, Lord, from the skies, And command us to rise Ready made for the mansions above; With our head to ascend, And eternity spend In a rapture of heavenly love. Page 156 Morning Hymn. My God, thou art in Jesus mine, And early will I seek thy face, A slave redeem'd by blood divine, A sinner sav'd by pardning grace. Preventing the first dawn of day, I lift my joyful heart and eyes, And call'd by love my vows to pay, Present my morning sacrifice. Thanks be to God inthron'd above, Who did to man salvation bring: Thy riches of redeeming love Let angels and archangels sing. Worthy the Lamb extol'd to live, Whose life to ransom ours was given: Jesus, the homage due receive, The utmost praise of earth and heaven. God over all for ever blest, Giver of every gift and grace, Redemption shines above the rest, And challenges my endless praise. Fountain and root of all beside Redemption in the dust I own, And suffering with the crucified Arise the partner of thy throne. Ev'n now I taste the raptures there, Amidst the church of the first-born, Redeem'd from earth, my Lord declare, And shouting to thine arms return. Page 157 I see those outstretch'd arms of love, Those arms extended on the tree! I see my place prepar'd above, And bow my head, to reign with thee! For One Retired into the Country.43 Merciful God, what hast thou done For a poor sojourner, How strangely drawn and led me on To seek salvation here? Here in the solitary shade I seek the things above, In deep distress implore thine aid, And languish for thy love. Thou, only thou canst sooth my grief, And calm my troubled breast, Afford the permanent relief, The true internal rest; Th' irreparable loss repair, And draw th' invenom'd dart, And shut the world of sin and care Out of my peaceful heart. Sorrow and sin are chas'd away, Whene'er thy love appears, The gloom it brightens into day, And dries the mourner's tears: It makes a wounded spirit whole, Pours in the balm divine, And whispers to mine inmost soul "The pard'ning God is thine!"