Wesley Corpus

Where has my slumb'ring spirit been, So late emerging into light! So imperceptible, within, The weight of this Egyptian night! Where have they hid the WORLD so long, So late presented to my view? Wretch! Tho' myself increas'd the throng, Myself a part I never knew. Secure beneath its shade I sat, To me were all its favours shewn: I could not taste its scorn or hate; Alas, it ever lov'd its own! Jesus, if half discerning now, From thee I gain this glimm'ring light, Retouch my eyes, anoint them thou, And grant me to receive my sight. O may I of thy grace obtain The world with other eyes to see: Its judgments false, its pleasures vain, Its friendship enmity with thee. Delusive world, thy hour is past, The folly of thy wisdom shew! It cannot now retard my haste, I leave thee for the holy few. Page 6 4Source: Antoinette Bourignon. First appeared in HSP (1739), 17-19. No! Thou blind leader of the blind, I bow my neck to thee no more! I cast thy glories all behind, And slight thy smiles, and dare thy pow'r. Excluded from my Saviour's pray'r, Stain'd, yet not hallow'd with his blood, Shalt thou my fond affection share, Shalt thou divide my heart with God? No! Tho' it rouze thy utmost rage, Eternal enmity I vow; Tho' hell with thine its pow'rs engage, Prepar'd I meet your onset now. Load me with scorn, reproach and shame; My patient Master's portion give; As evil still cast out my name, Nor suffer such a wretch to live. Set to thy seal that I am his; Vile as my Lord I long to be: My hope, my crown, my glory this, Dying to conquer sin and thee. Farewel to the World.4 World adieu, thou real cheat! Oft have thy deceitful charms Fill'd my heart with fond conceit, Foolish hopes and false alarms: Page 7 Now I see as clear as day, How thy follies pass away. Vain thy entertaining sights, False thy promises renew'd, All the pomp of thy delights Does but flatter and delude: Thee I quit for heav'n above, Object of the noblest love. Farewel honour's empty pride! Thy own nice, uncertain gust, If the least mischance betide, Lays thee lower than the dust; Worldly honours end in gall, Rise to day, to morrow fall.