Wesley Corpus

Hymns and Sacred Poems (1749) Vol 1

AuthorCharles Wesley
Typehymn-collection
Year1749
Passage IDcw-duke-hymns-and-sacred-poems-1749-vol-1-113
Words389
Sourcehttps://divinity.duke.edu/initiatives/wesleyan-methodist/...
Christology Works of Mercy Universal Redemption
I come, O God, to do thy will, With Jesus in my view, A servant of his servants still, My pattern I pursue. My loving labour I repeat, Obedient to his word, And wash his dear disciples' feet, And wait upon my Lord. 15Manuscript precursors of this hymn appear in MS Cheshunt, 56-58; MS Clarke, 63-64a; and MS Shent, 141b-142b. Page 215 I have my Saviour always near, On him I now attend, I see him in his members here, My brother, and my friend. Shivering beneath those rags he stands, Again expos'd, and bare, And stretches out his helpless hands, And asks my tender care. And shall I not relief afford, Put off my costly dress, Tear it away to cloath my Lord, Who hides my sinfulness! Drink to a thirsty Christ I give, An hungry Christ I feed, The stranger to my house receive, Who here shall lay his head. Sick, and in prison will I find, And all his sorrows chear, Or bring him forth, and doubly kind Relieve, and tend him here. In sickness will I make his bed, The cordial draught prepare, My hands shall hold his fainting head And all his burthen bear. Surely I now my Saviour see, In this poor worm conceal'd, Wounded he asks relief of me, Who all my wounds hath heal'd. My needy Jesus I descry, And in this object meet, Sick, and in pain I see him lie, And gasping at my feet. Page 216 Paleness his dying face o'erspreads, His griefs I more than see, My heart at Jesu's suffering bleeds With softest sympathy. I fill my Lord's afflictions up, His welcome burthen bear, And gladly drink his bitter cup, And all his sorrows share. Yes, Lord, with joy, and grief, and love I now behold thy face, My God descended from above To suffer in my place. Thy visage marr'd with tears and blood, Mine eyes of faith survey, As when on yonder cross my God A bleeding victim lay. Torn with the whips, and nails, and spear Thy sacred body was; O might it now to all appear As hanging on the cross! O that to thee the world might bow, And know thy saving name, And see, and serve, as I do now, And love the bleeding Lamb! Hymns for Believers. Hymn XIV.17