Hymns and Sacred Poems (1749) Vol 1
| Author | Charles Wesley |
|---|---|
| Type | hymn-collection |
| Year | 1749 |
| Passage ID | cw-duke-hymns-and-sacred-poems-1749-vol-1-074 |
| Words | 396 |
| Source | https://divinity.duke.edu/initiatives/wesleyan-methodist/... |
If thou all compassion art, If to me thy bowels move, Trouble, and make soft my heart, Melt it by thy pardning love, Now from all my sins release, Loose, and bid me go in peace. Hymns for One Fallen from Grace. Hymn XXI. How shall a lost sinner in pain Recover his forfeited peace? When brought into bondage again What hope of a second release? Will mercy itself be so kind To spare such a rebel as me? And O! Can I possibly find Such plenteous redemption in thee? O Jesus, of thee I enquire If still thou are able to save, The brand to pluck out of the fire And ransom my soul from the grave? The help of thy Spirit restore, And shew me the life-giving blood, And pardon a sinner once more, And bring me again unto God. 81Ori., "3", in both editions. Page 135 O Jesus, in pity draw near, Come quickly to help a lost soul, To comfort a mourner appear, And make a poor Lazarus whole: The balm of thy mercy apply, (Thou seest the sore anguish I feel) Save, Lord, or I perish, I die, O save, or I sink into hell! I sink if thou longer delay Thy pardoning mercy to shew, Come quickly, and kindly display The power of thy passion below, By all thou hast done for my sake One drop of thy blood I implore: Now, now let it touch me, and make The sinner a sinner no more. Hymns for One Fallen from Grace. Hymn XXII. Turn, thou friend of sinners, turn On my soul thy gracious eye, Let me for thy glory mourn, For thine injur'd honour cry: Melt me by thy pitying look, Me who have my Lord forsook. Come thou greater than my heart, Come, and now the stone remove, Now the bitter grief impart, Grief at having griev'd thy love, Thee so faithlessly denied, Thee so often crucified! Page 136 Worldly grief be far away, Trouble at my sufferings here! Huge affliction, sore dismay, Burning shame and racking fear, These are but my lightest load: I have sinn'd against my God. O that this might swallow up All my pains, and griefs, and fears! I have made my God to stoop, Made thee lose thy precious tears, Made thee shed thy blood again, Die ten thousand times in vain.