The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley

Most meek, and tender-hearted Lamb,
Jesus, we call on Thy dear name,
Nor shall we call in vain;
In Thee we have not an high-priest
Who cannot be like us distress'd,
For God-with-us is man.

Thou feelest all the woes we feel,
A sufferer in Thy members still,
A man of griefs Thou art:
And now Thou dost the sickness bear
Of him, for whom we make our prayer,
And pour out all our heart.

Still, gracious Lord, delight to shed
Thy blessings on his favourite head,
Thy choicest blessings shower;
Preserve his mind in perfect peace,
And when his sufferings most increase,
O let his joys be more.

Give him Thy meek and quiet mind,
Patient, and perfectly resign'd
In all things let him be,
Nothing desire above, beneath,
Nor ease, nor pain, nor life, nor death,
But to be all like Thee.

Yet for Thy desolate Sion sake,
Ah! do not now receive him back
To Thy celestial choir:
A burning and a shining light,
Detain him in our land of night,
To set the world on fire.

Jesu, approach, and touch his hand,
(We ask in faith,) and now command
The fever to depart;
Now bid him in Thine image rise,
Possess'd of his high calling's prize,
A pure and perfect heart.

CLXVI. THE SAME.

Hymn 2.

[O God, Thy truth, and power declare]

O God, Thy truth, and power declare,
We wait the answer of our prayer,
We know it must be given:
The prayer of faith can never fail,
It enters now within the veil,
And shuts, and opens heaven.

Lord, we believe the promise true,
The prayer of faith can all things do,
When guided by Thy will;
It stops the parting spirit's flight,
Or brings it back from realms of light,
To serve Thy pleasure still.

In faith we wrestle for that soul;
Stir up Thy power, and make him whole,
Protract his happy days,
And let him all Thy goodness know,
A guardian angel here below,
A vessel of Thy grace.

Long may he to Thy glory live,
Thy richest promises receive,
Wash'd by Thy hallowing word
From every wrinkle, every spot;
Sinless in deed, and word, and thought,
In all things like his Lord.

We know Thou wilt not long delay,
We have the things for which we pray,
The prayer of faith is seal'd:
And he Thine utmost truth shall prove,
Loved with an everlasting love,
With all Thy fulness fill'd.

Author of faith, Thy love we praise:
O what omnipotence of grace
Hast Thou on man bestow'd!
Thy mouth, O Lord, hath strangely said,
“Concerning those My hands have made
Ye worms, command your God!”

University of Virginia Library

[FOR A SICK FRIEND]

CLXV. FOR A SICK FRIEND.

Hymn 1.

CLXVI. THE SAME.

Hymn 2.

[O God, Thy truth, and power declare]