Wesley Corpus

Here will I ever, ever cry, Jesus, thy healing power exert, Balm to my wounded spirit apply, And bind thou up my broken heart. My sore disease, my desp'rate sin To thee I mournfully confess; In pardon, Lord, my cure begin, And perfect it in holiness. That token of thine utmost good Now, Jesu, now on me bestow, And purge my conscience with thy blood, And wash my nature white as snow. "Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever." Heb. xiii. 8. Hymn III. Help, gracious Lord, my deep distress To thee with anguish I reveal, Who every sickness, and disease Dost still among thy people heal. O wouldst thou undertake for me, Exert thy healing art divine! My complicated malady Mocks every other help but thine. A secret, slow, internal58 fire Consumes my soul with lingring pains, The restless fever of desire Throughout my fallen nature reigns. Jesu, this eagerness of praise, This raging thirst of creature-good, Allay with thy refreshing grace, Extinguish with thy balmy blood. 58Ori., "eternal"; corrected in errata and 2nd edn. (1755). Page 92 See the poor patient at thy feet, And now the gracious wonder shew: I long thy healing touch to meet, I gasp thy pardning love to know. Now, Saviour, now the fever chide, The virtue of thy name exert, The fierceness of desire and pride Rebuke, and bid my sin depart. Soon as thy hand the balm applies, My dying soul from sin set free With instantaneous health shall rise, And gladly serve thy saints and thee; The servant of thy church below, With all who know their sins forgiven, Pardon'd I in thy peace shall go, And walk, and run, and fly to heaven. "Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever." Heb. xiii. 8. Hymn IV. O thou, whom once they flock'd to hear, Thy words to hear, thy power to feel, Suffer the sinners to draw near, And graciously receive us still. They that be whole, thyself hast said, No need of a physician have: But I am sick, and want thine aid, And ask thine utmost power to save. Past human help I long have been, With every soul-disease opprest; Weary of life thro' pain and sin, And only thou canst give me rest. 59Ori., "7". Next two stanzas: ori., "8" and "9", respectively (error in both editions). Page 93