 | The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley |  |
CLIX. FOR ONE IN PAIN.
Hymn 1.
Pain, my old companion pain,
Seldom parted from my side,
Welcome to thy seat again,
Here, if God permits, abide:
Pledge of sure-approaching ease,
Haste to stop my wretched breath,
Rugged messenger of peace,
Joyful harbinger of death.
Seldom parted from my side,
Welcome to thy seat again,
Here, if God permits, abide:
Pledge of sure-approaching ease,
Haste to stop my wretched breath,
Rugged messenger of peace,
Joyful harbinger of death.
68
Foe to nature as thou art,
I embrace thee as my friend:
Thou shalt bid my griefs depart,
Bring me to my journey's end:
Yes, I joyfully decay,
Homeward through thy help I haste;
Thou hast shook the house of clay;
Surely it will fall at last.
I embrace thee as my friend:
Thou shalt bid my griefs depart,
Bring me to my journey's end:
Yes, I joyfully decay,
Homeward through thy help I haste;
Thou hast shook the house of clay;
Surely it will fall at last.
Kind remembrancer, to thee
Many a cheerful thought I owe:
Witness of mortality,
Wise through thee my end I know;
Warn'd by every pain I feel
Of my dissolution near;
Pleased the lessening hours I tell:
Quickly shall the last be here.
Many a cheerful thought I owe:
Witness of mortality,
Wise through thee my end I know;
Warn'd by every pain I feel
Of my dissolution near;
Pleased the lessening hours I tell:
Quickly shall the last be here.
Sacred, salutary ill,
Thee though foolish man miscall,
Mingled by my Father's skill;
Sweet as honey is the gall:
Who beneath thy pressure groan,
Chief of ills who reckon thee,
Sin, alas! they ne'er have known:
Sin is perfect misery.
Thee though foolish man miscall,
Mingled by my Father's skill;
Sweet as honey is the gall:
Who beneath thy pressure groan,
Chief of ills who reckon thee,
Sin, alas! they ne'er have known:
Sin is perfect misery.
Free from sin I soon shall live,
Free from sin while here below,
Only thou may'st still survive,
Till the joys of heaven I know,
Of my starry crown possess'd;
All thy office then is o'er,
When I gain the glorious rest,
Pain and suffering are no more.
Free from sin while here below,
Only thou may'st still survive,
Till the joys of heaven I know,
Of my starry crown possess'd;
All thy office then is o'er,
When I gain the glorious rest,
Pain and suffering are no more.
| The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | |