Hymns and Sacred Poems (1742)
| Author | Charles Wesley |
|---|---|
| Type | hymn-collection |
| Year | 1742 |
| Passage ID | cw-duke-hymns-and-sacred-poems-1742-112 |
| Words | 393 |
| Source | https://divinity.duke.edu/initiatives/wesleyan-methodist/... |
Oft thou visitest my breast, But O! How short thy88 stay! As the memory of a guest, That tarrieth but a day. Come, and all thy foes expel, Fix in me thy constant home, With thy Father in me dwell, Lord Jesus, quickly come! Waiting for Christ the Prophet. Prophet, sent from God above To teach his perfect will, Lo! I wait to learn thy love, I tremble, and am still: To thy guidance I submit, All my soul to thee I bow, See me sitting at thy feet, Speak, Lord, I hear thee now. From the idle babler man Behold I turn away, Trample on the fairest plan That human wit can lay: Foolish am I still, and blind, Till the truth itself impart, Chase the darkness from my mind, And shine within my heart. 87"Thy" changed to "thine" in 2nd edn. (1745) and following. 88Ori., "they"; corrected in errata. Page 208 What avails the creature's strife, When thou, and only thou Hast the words of endless life! (O could I hear them now!) Mighty thou in word and deed, Thou my only teacher be, Thou, by thy89 anointing, lead A soul that seeks to thee. I from outward things withdraw, No help in them is found, At thy mouth I seek the law, I listen for the sound Which shall all my griefs controul, Empty me at once and fill, Calm the tempest in my soul, And bid the sea be still. Ah! My Lord, if thou art near, And knockest at the door, Let me now my prophet hear, And keep thee out no more: Be reveal'd thou heavenly guest To consume the man of sin, Take possession of my breast, Come in, my Lord, come in. The Same Waiting for Christ the Prophet. Christ, my hidden life appear, Soul of my inmost soul, Light of life, the mourner chear, And make the sinner whole. Now in me thyself display, Surely thou in all things art, I from all things turn away To seek thee in my heart. 89"Thy" changed to "thine" in 2nd edn. (1745) and following. Page 209 Open, Lord, my inward ear, And bid my heart rejoice, Bid my quiet spirit hear Thy comfortable voice, Never in the whirlwind found, Or where earthquakes rock the place; Still, and silent is the sound, The whisper of thy grace.