Wesley Corpus

Hymns and Sacred Poems (1747)

AuthorCharles Wesley
Typehymn-collection
Year1747
Passage IDcw-duke-hymns-and-sacred-poems-1747-024
Words382
Sourcehttps://divinity.duke.edu/initiatives/wesleyan-methodist/...
Christology Reign of God Universal Redemption
In him compleat we shine, His death, his life is mine. Fully am I justify'd, Free from sin, and more than free; Guiltless, since for me he dy'd, Righteous, since he liv'd for me! Jesu! To thee I bow, Sav'd to the utmost now. O the depth of love divine! Who thy wisdom's stores can tell? Knowledge infinite is thine, All thy ways unsearchable! Page 53 41First appeared in Hymns on God's Everlasting Love (1741), 5-6. The first line is used as a title, since none is given in HSP (1747). Lord, Not Unto Me.41 Lord, not unto me (The whole I disclaim) All glory to thee Thro' Jesus's name! Thy gifts and thy graces Pour'd down from above, Demand all our praises, Our thanks, and our love. Thy faithfulness, Lord, Each moment we find, So true to thy word, So loving and kind; Thy mercy so tender To all the lost race, The foulest offender May turn, and find grace. The mercy I feel, To others I shew, I set to my seal That Jesus is true; Ye all may find favour Who come at his call; O! Come to my Saviour, His grace is for all. To save what was lost From heaven he came: Come, sinners, and trust In Jesus's name; He offers you pardon, He bids you "Be free, If sin is your burden, O! Come unto me!" Page 54 42First appeared in HSP (1739), 150-52, entitled "Justified, But Not Sanctified." This title has been used above since HSP (1747) does not include a title for the hymn. O let me commend My Saviour to you, The publican's friend And advocate too: For you he is pleading His merits and death With God interceding For sinners beneath. Then let us submit His grace to receive, Fall down at his feet, And gladly believe; We all are forgiven For Jesus's sake, Our title to heaven His merits we take. Justified, But Not Sanctified.42 My God (if I may call thee mine From heav'n and thee remov'd so far) Draw nigh; thy pitying ear incline, And cast not out my languid pray'r. Gently the weak thou lov'st to lead, Thou lov'st to prop the feeble knee; O break not then a bruised reed, Nor quench the smoaking flax in me.