Wesley Corpus

Hymns and Sacred Poems (1749) Vol 1

AuthorCharles Wesley
Typehymn-collection
Year1749
Passage IDcw-duke-hymns-and-sacred-poems-1749-vol-1-043
Words399
Sourcehttps://divinity.duke.edu/initiatives/wesleyan-methodist/...
Reign of God Christology Repentance
Still the long hour of darkness lasts, And Satan's tyranny prevails, So thick his fiery darts he casts, My spirit every moment fails, While in the toils of death I lie, And from the den of lions cry. Low in the deepest dungeon laid, Fast bound in sin and misery, Of fiends, and man, and self48 afraid, I ever hasten to be free, I see them ready to devour, And tremble at their baleful power. Nor won, nor lost, subsists the fight, Hovers in even poise the scale, Shudders my soul with dread affright, And quivering hangs 'twixt heaven and hell; This doubt! 'Tis more than I can bear, 'Tis worse, 'tis heavier than despair. O Saviour, loose me from my pain, O Jesus, bid my troubles end, Bear not that healing name in vain, But shew thyself the sinner's friend, Apply the blood that bought my peace, And give my wounded spirit ease. Thy only blood can be my balm, And heal the mortal wounds of sin, Thy only word my soul can calm, And lay the storm that works within, Now, Lord, rebuke the winds and seas, And speak me into perfect peace. Or (for I know not what is best) Still let me bear my guilty load, But be my everlasting rest, But bring me, as thou wilt, to God, 48John Wesley substituted "men and myself" for "and man and self" in manuscript in his personal copy of the 2nd edn. (1755). Page 72 When all his waves and storms are o'er, And sin, and sorrow are no more. For One in Doubt. Hymn IV.49 O thou that dost in secret see, Regard a dying sinner's prayer, Out of the deep I cry to thee, Save, or I perish in despair. Shorten the days of inbred sin, Speak to my50 raging passions peace, Allay this hurricane within, Bid all my inward conflicts cease. When shall the fiery trial end? When shall I live, and sin no more? Wilt thou not, Lord, my soul defend, 'Till all the tyranny is o'er? Weeping to thee I lift mine eyes, Mine eyes which fail with looking up, For thee my heart laments and sighs, Sick with desire, and lingring hope. A daily death I die thro' fear That I no more shall see my God, No more the voice of mercy hear, But faint, and perish in my blood.