Scripture Hymns (1762) Vol 1
| Author | Charles Wesley |
|---|---|
| Type | hymn-collection |
| Year | 1762 |
| Passage ID | cw-duke-scripture-hymns-1762-vol-1-179 |
| Words | 391 |
| Source | https://divinity.duke.edu/initiatives/wesleyan-methodist/... |
Page 222 Hymn 705. "Doth Job fear God for nought?" Job i. 9. No, thou malicious fiend! I own my service bought: So great a Lord, so kind a friend I cannot fear for nought. "Naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return thither." Job i. 21. Naked into the world I came, Naked I out of it shall go, And soon this perishable frame With mother earth shall rest below: But O! My soul, if born again, With glory cloath'd upon shall rise, A place among the saints obtain, And find its Father in the skies. "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away: blessed be the name of the Lord." Job i. 21. I cannot lose what is not mine, I may to God restore his loan; And chearfully I would resign, When justly he revokes his own: Ah, give me, Lord, with all to part; And when thou dost my soul require, To bless thee for a broken heart, And calmly in thine arms expire. Page 223 "Curse God and die." Job ii. 9. Urg'd by the world and Satan I In pain to curse my God and die, To the abhor'd temptation give No place; but bless my God, and live. "Shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil?" Job ii. 10. Patiently receiv'd from thee, Evil cannot evil be: Evil is by evil heal'd; Evil is but good conceal'd, And thro' the virtue of thy blood Shall turn to our eternal good. "Job cursed his day." Job iii. 1. Impatient of a Father's rod, In gloomy, discontented pain, No more I quarrel with my God, Of life ungratefully complain, But humbled in the dust, approve The kind design of heavenly love. Blest be the day that I was born A candidate for endless bliss! If to my latest hour I mourn, Yet will I praise my God for this, Bear up beneath a weight of clay, And triumph in my natal day. "There the weary be at rest." Job iii. 17. Leaving myself behind For that confirm'd repose, I shall a long oblivion find Of life and all its woes: Rest after toil how sweet, When in thine arms I prove, Then, only then, I shall forget That I have griev'd thy love.