Wesley Corpus

Learning should I strive to gain, Fairest fruit on earth that grows, Ineffectual were my pain, Happiest he who nothing knows; Who in quest of vain relief Adds to knowledge, adds to grief. If my God I cast behind, God the source of perfect bliss, Vain are all my hopes to find True, substantial happiness; Search the whole creation round, Can it out of God be found? No; my God, if from the way, From the truth if I remove, Must I not forever stray, On in error's mazes rove, Page 209 Rove from peace to troublous strife, Rove to death from endless life! Who would go from health to pain, Turn from grace to wickedness, Freedom quit, to hug a chain; Grieve his friend, his foe to please? Who his Saviour-God to shun, Would to his destroyer run? Saviour, I with guilty shame Own that I, alas, am he! Weak, and wavering still I am, Ready still to fly from thee: Stop me by thy look, and say, Will you also go away? You, whom I have brought to God, Will you turn from God again? You, for whom I spilt my blood, Will you let it flow in vain? You, who felt it once applied, Can ye leave my bleeding side? No, my Lamb, my Saviour, no, (Every soul with me reply) From thy wounds we will not go, Will not from our Master fly: Thine is the life-giving word; Thou art our eternal Lord. Speak, and by thy word detain Every soul inclin'd to stray; Speak, and let thy love constrain Every fugitive to stay; That we may no more depart, Speak thyself into our heart. Page 210 Hymns for Believers. Hymn IX. In weariness and pain, By griefs and sins opprest; I turn me to my rest again, My soul's eternal rest; The Lamb that died for me, And still my load doth bear; To Jesu's streaming wounds I flee, And find my quiet there. Jesus, was ever grief, Was ever love like thine! Thy sorrow, Lord, is my relief, Thy life hath ransom'd mine. The crucified appears! I see the dying God! O might I pour my ceaseless tears, And mix them with thy blood!