Wesley Corpus

When the boasted grace is gone, Humbled in the dust I lie, Poor, forsaken, and alone, From the deep on God I cry. Seeing there my loss of God, Proud I am my loss to see, Proud to find that I am proud, Proud of my humility. O the strength of inbred sin! Who can vanity subdue? From a creature all unclean Who can bring a creature new? Jesu, Lord, all power is thine, Nothing is too hard for thee, Greater than this heart of mine, Surely thou canst humble me. O begin; the way prepare: Pride, and unbelief confound: Far away my fig-leaves tear, Throughly search my spirit's wound: Page 33 Cast me down, and keep me poor, All my weak supports remove, Lay the deep foundation sure, Humble me by faith and love. Take my broken reeds away, Every vain fallacious rest, All on which my soul I stay, All that keeps me from thy breast: Strip me, empty me of all; Joyless, chearless would I be, So I might on Jesus fall, Fall, and lose myself in thee. "O that I had wings like a dove, for then would I flee away, and be at rest." Psalm lv. 6. BCP O that I had the silver wings Of the mild, holy dove, To bear me far from earthly things, And every creature-love. Then would I swiftly fly away To Christ, and be at rest, On him my flutt'ring spirit stay, And hide me in his breast. Jesu, my hiding-place, to thee I know not how to fly, Long have I struggled to be free, Nor found deliverance nigh. Full oft in fruitless, fond desire I to the desart ran, Page 34 But could not from myself retire, Or 'scape the inner man. I took the morning's wings and fled For rest to worlds unknown; Sin found me in the secret shade, And claim'd me for its own. O who shall bid this self depart, This world of sin exclude, Empty, and make my peaceful heart An holy solitude? 'Tis not the desart, or the cell Can hide me from my pain, I carry with me my own hell, While self and pride remain. Baffled, o'ercome I yield at last, I yield to self-despair, My unavailing strife is past, And void returns my prayer.