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 | The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley |  |
II. THE SAME.
Hymn 2.
[Jesu, Thy record I receive]
Jesu, Thy record I receive,
With lowly self-mistrusting fear:
As many days as here I live,
So many must I suffer here:
In all my Master's steps to go,
To suffer is my lot below.
With lowly self-mistrusting fear:
As many days as here I live,
So many must I suffer here:
In all my Master's steps to go,
To suffer is my lot below.
Thy Spirit witnesses to mine,
I must Thy daily cross endure:
I know the warning is Divine:
The word of promised pain is sure;
Afflictions all my steps attend,
And but with life my griefs shall end.
I must Thy daily cross endure:
I know the warning is Divine:
The word of promised pain is sure;
Afflictions all my steps attend,
And but with life my griefs shall end.
Whate'er the rage of fiends, and men,
Can by Divine permission do,
I come expecting to sustain:
It must be so, for God is true;
And God hath spoke the faithful word,
“The servant shall be as his Lord.”
Can by Divine permission do,
I come expecting to sustain:
It must be so, for God is true;
And God hath spoke the faithful word,
“The servant shall be as his Lord.”
144
Master, if Thee the world blasphemed,
Will they not scorn, and cast out me?
I shall be more and more contemn'd,
I shall be more and more like Thee,
Till all conform'd to Thee I am,
And honour'd with Thine utmost shame.
Will they not scorn, and cast out me?
I shall be more and more contemn'd,
I shall be more and more like Thee,
Till all conform'd to Thee I am,
And honour'd with Thine utmost shame.
If Thee the' ungrateful world could hate,
Thou friend, and lover of mankind,
Shall I not feel their anger's weight,
Shall I not all their malice find,
Hated, oppress'd, despised, abhorr'd,
And persecuted with my Lord!
Thou friend, and lover of mankind,
Shall I not feel their anger's weight,
Shall I not all their malice find,
Hated, oppress'd, despised, abhorr'd,
And persecuted with my Lord!
They will, Thyself hast said, they will,
With mortal hate my life pursue,
As helpless sheep Thy people kill,
Service to God by murder do,
Offer Thee human sacrifice,
And glut Thee with Thy martyrs' cries.
With mortal hate my life pursue,
As helpless sheep Thy people kill,
Service to God by murder do,
Offer Thee human sacrifice,
And glut Thee with Thy martyrs' cries.
With steadfast faith for this I wait,
To bear the' inevitable cross,
A sharer in Thy low estate,
Afflicted as my Master was,
I must on earth Thy treatment find,
The scorn, and outcast of mankind.
To bear the' inevitable cross,
A sharer in Thy low estate,
Afflicted as my Master was,
I must on earth Thy treatment find,
The scorn, and outcast of mankind.
I feel it settled in my heart,
Fix'd in my inmost soul I feel
A looking for that better part,
A sure presage of promised ill,
Of all my Saviour bore beneath,
Sorrow, and shame, and bonds, and death.
Fix'd in my inmost soul I feel
A looking for that better part,
A sure presage of promised ill,
Of all my Saviour bore beneath,
Sorrow, and shame, and bonds, and death.
| The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | |