Wesley Corpus

Out of the deep on Christ I call, In bitterness of spirit cry; Broken upon that stone I fall, I fall, the chief of sinners I! Saviour of men, my sad complaint Let me into thy bosom pour, Beneath my load of sin I faint, And hell is ready to devour. A devil to myself I am, Yet cannot 'scape the flesh I tear, Beast, fiend, and legion is my name, My lot the blackness of despair. Why then in this unequal strife, To Tophet's utmost margin driven, Still gasps my parting soul for life, Nor quite gives up her claim to heaven? Why hopes for help my drooping heart, (Hopes against hope) when none is nigh? I cannot from my Lord depart, But kiss the feet at which I die. My Lord, (I still will call thee mine, Tho'39 sentenc'd to eternal pain;) Thou wouldest not thy cup decline, The vengeance due to guilty man. 39"Tho'" changed to "Till" in 4th edn. (1743) and following. Page 86 My sufferings all to thee are known, Tempted in every point like me: Regard my griefs, regard thine own: Jesu! Remember Calvary! O call to mind thy earnest prayers, Thine agony and sweat of blood, Thy strong and bitter cries and tears, Thy mortal groan, "My God! My God!" For whom didst thou the cross endure? Who nail'd thy body to the tree? Did not thy death my life procure? O let thy bowels answer me! Art thou not touch'd with human woe? Hath pity left the Son of man? Dost thou not all our sorrow know, And claim a share in all our pain? Canst thou forget thy days of flesh? Canst thou my miseries not feel? Thy tender heart it bleeds afresh! It bleeds! And thou art Jesus still! I feel, I feel thee now the same, Kindled thy kind relentings are; These meltings from thy bowels came, Thy Spirit groan'd this inward prayer. Page 87 Thy prayer is heard, thy will is done! Light in thy light at length I see; Thou wilt preserve my soul thine own, And shew forth all thy power in me. My peace returns, my fears retire, I find thee lifting up my head, Trembling I now to heaven aspire, And hear the voice that wakes the dead.