Hymns and Sacred Poems (1740)
| Author | Charles Wesley |
|---|---|
| Type | hymn-collection |
| Year | 1740 |
| Passage ID | cw-duke-hymns-and-sacred-poems-1740-022 |
| Words | 383 |
| Source | https://divinity.duke.edu/initiatives/wesleyan-methodist/... |
For thee, within myself, for thee I groan, and for th' adoption wait, When death shall set my spirit free, And make my liberty compleat. No longer then, my Lord, defer, From earth and sin to take me home; Now let my eyes behold thee near; Come quickly, O my Saviour, come. Page 49 Upon Parting with His Friends. Part I. Cease, foolish heart, thy fond complaints, Nor heave with unavailing sighs, Equal is God to all thy wants, The hungry soul himself supplies. Gladly thy every wish resign; Thou canst not want, if God is thine. Stop this full current of thy tears, Or pour for sin th' ennobled flood: Look up, my soul, shake off thy fears, Or fear to lose a gracious God: To him, thy only rest, return; In vain for him thou canst not mourn. Still vex'd and troubled is my heart? Still wails my soul the penal loss? Ling'ring I groan with all to part, I groan to bear the grievous cross; The grievous cross I fain would fly, Or sink beneath its weight, and die. Sad soothing thought! To lose my cares, And silently resign my breath! Cut off a length of wretched years, And steal an unsuspected death; Now to lay down my weary head, And lift it free among the dead! Page 50 When will the dear deliv'rance come? Period of all my pain and strife! O that my soul, which gasps for home, Which struggles in the toils of life, Ease, and a resting place could find, And leave this world of woe behind! O that the bitterness were past, The pain of life's long ling'ring hour! While snatch'd from passion's furious blast, And sav'd from sorrow's baleful pow'r, I mock the storm, out-ride the wave, And gain the harbour of the grave. Bless'd, peaceful state! Where, lull'd to sleep, The suff'rer's woes shall all be o'er! There plaintive grief no more shall weep, Remembrance there shall vex no more; Nor fond excess, nor pining care, Nor loss, nor parting shall be there! Part II. O holy, holy, holy Lord! Righteous in all thy ways art thou! I yield and tremble at thy word, Beneath thy mighty hand I bow, I own, while humbled in the dust, I own the punishment is just.