Hymns and Sacred Poems (1749) Vol 2
| Author | Charles Wesley |
|---|---|
| Type | hymn-collection |
| Year | 1749 |
| Passage ID | cw-duke-hymns-and-sacred-poems-1749-vol-2-028 |
| Words | 394 |
| Source | https://divinity.duke.edu/initiatives/wesleyan-methodist/... |
'Tis there I shall meet him again Whose burthen thro' life I must bear, No longer the cause of my pain, No longer a fugitive there: Here only the world could divide, Here only the tempter could part, And turn the unwary aside, And poison the innocent heart. Then let me with meekness attend The word that shall summon me home, The days of my pilgrimage end, And bury my griefs in the tomb; Page 43 The tears shall be wip'd from my eyes, When him I behold with the blest, Who hasten'd my soul to the skies, And follow'd me into my rest. On the Loss of His Friends. Hymn IV. O my best, my only friend, Ever constant, kind, and true, Let my days of mourning end, Let me bid the world adieu, From its vice and vanity Take, O take me up to thee. Weary of my friends below, Friends that quickly melt away, Friends, that faint to share my woe, Friends, that promise and betray, Let me quit the faithless kind, Truth in thee alone to find. O that now my spirit might fail, Suddenly from earth remove! Snatch me from the weeping vale, Bear me to the world above: There at rest the weary are, Vext with no false brethren there. Jesu, Lord, when shall it be? End of all my wishes thou, Set my struggling spirit free, Hasten to my rescue now: Bid me to the mountain fly, Get me up this hour, and die. 35Numbered as such in original (both editions); should be continuation of stanza 5. 36John Wesley marked this hymn with a manuscript "Q" in his personal copy of the 2nd edn. (1756). Page 44 On the Loss of His Friends. Hymn V. Or if thy great will ordain In the vale my longer stay, Let me cease from wretched man, Cast the broken reed away, Give my vainest labour o'er, Look for37 faith in man no more. Pass away the empty shade, Idle dream of friendship here, Let the fond idea fade, Let the vapour disappear: Human friends, I give you up,38 Thou, O Christ, art all my hope. Only thou canst never be Wearied out with my complaint Crush'd by my own misery, Oft as at thy feet I faint, Thou my grief dost more than share, Thou dost all my burthen bear.