Wesley Corpus

Page 155 But deepen, Lord, the grief begun, But heighten my distress, And not till life's expiring groan Let my repentance cease. "Believe ye, that I am able to do this?" Matt. ix. 28. I do believe thou canst, thou wilt Mine unbelief remove, And purge out all my nature's guilt, And perfect me in love: Begin thy work, restore my sight By justifying grace, And bid me walk with thee in white, To see my Father's face. "Jesus went about teaching, and healing." Matt. ix. 35. Thou goest about in every age, Dark, sinsick souls to teach and heal; The publish'd word, the written page Conveys the balm infallible, We now thy Spirit of love receive, Of power, and of a vig'rous mind, And still thou in thyself wouldst give Life, health, and heaven, to all mankind. "The labourers are few." Matt. ix. 37. Yet thousands, Lord, the honour claim, And boast their lawful ministry, While only labourers in name They prove, they were not sent by thee. "Pray ye the Lord of the harvest, that he will send forth labourers into his harvest." Matt. ix. 38. Such power belongs to thee alone Fit instruments to raise, Whose lives may make thy goodness known, And spread their Saviour's praise: Page 156 Now, Lord, the faithful workmen send, With gifts and talents blest To labour, till their toil shall end In everlasting rest. "Freely ye have received, freely give." Matt. x. 8. Our life, and grace, and ministry We freely did receive, And freely to thy church and thee Our gifts and life we give: Bishop of souls, we wait the day Which shall reward our toil; Appear, thy servants to o'erpay With one eternal smile. "Be ye wise as serpents, and harmless as doves." Matt. x. 16. Saviour, my double want I feel, By fear, by innocence betray'd, By prudence false, and blindful zeal; In pity hasten to my aid, With wisdom pure of worldly art, With harmless, undesigning love Meeken, yet fortify, my heart, And blend the serpent with the dove. "Beware of men!" Matt. x. 17. Not thro' an all-suspecting fear Would we in desarts hide, Nor yet unguardedly sincere In faithless man confide: Arm'd with thy wise benevolent mind Our course we safely run, Honour and love the ransom'd kind, But trust in God alone.