Hymns and Sacred Poems (1747)
| Author | Charles Wesley |
|---|---|
| Type | hymn-collection |
| Year | 1747 |
| Passage ID | cw-duke-hymns-and-sacred-poems-1747-005 |
| Words | 399 |
| Source | https://divinity.duke.edu/initiatives/wesleyan-methodist/... |
Thou know'st the baseness of my mind, Wayward, and impotent and blind: Thou know'st how unsubdu'd my will, Averse to good, and prone to ill: Thou know'st how wide my passions rove, Nor check'd by fear, nor charm'd by love. Page 10 Fain would I know, as known by thee, And feel the indigence I see; Fain would I all my vileness own, And deep beneath the burden groan; Abhor the pride that lurks within, Detest and loath myself and sin. Ah give me, Lord, myself to feel, My total misery reveal: Ah give me, Lord, (I still would say) A heart to mourn, a heart to pray; My bus'ness this, my only care, My life, my ev'ry breath be pray'r. Scarce I begin my sad complaint, When all my warmest wishes faint; Hardly I lift my weeping eye, When all my kindling ardors die; Nor hopes nor fears my bosom move, For still I cannot, cannot love. Father, I want a thankful heart! I want to taste how good thou art. To plunge me in thy mercy's sea, And comprehend thy love to me; The breadth, and length, and depth, and height Of love divinely infinite. Father, I long my soul to raise. And dwell for ever on thy praise; Thy praise with glorious joy to tell, In extasy unspeakable; While the full pow'r of FAITH I know, And reign triumphant here below. Page 11 8First appeared in HSP (1739), 91-92. Hebrews xii. 2.8 "Looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith." Weary of struggling with my pain, Hopeless to burst my nature's chain, Hardly I give the contest o'er, I seek to free myself no more. From my own works at last I cease, God that creates must seal my peace; Fruitless my toil, and vain my care, And all my fitness is despair. Lord, I despair myself to heal, I see my sin, but cannot feel: I cannot, till thy Spirit blow, And bid th' obedient waters flow. 'Tis thine a heart of flesh to give, Thy gifts I only can receive: Here then to thee I all resign, To draw, redeem, and seal is thine. With simple faith, to thee I call, My light, my life, my Lord, my all: I wait the moving of the pool, I wait the word that speaks me whole. Page 12 9First appeared in HSP (1739), 107-8.