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 | The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley |  |
XLV. THE SAME.
Hymn 2.
[O sorrowful soul]
O sorrowful soul,
Thy measure is full,
Thy cup it runs o'er,
On earth thou canst sorrow, and suffer no more.
Thy measure is full,
Thy cup it runs o'er,
On earth thou canst sorrow, and suffer no more.
My comfort is fled,
My joy is all dead,
Extinguish'd my hope,
And never again I on earth shall look up.
My joy is all dead,
Extinguish'd my hope,
And never again I on earth shall look up.
In patient distress
From the creature I cease,
Disdain the relief,
Which can neither remove, nor diminish my grief.
From the creature I cease,
Disdain the relief,
Which can neither remove, nor diminish my grief.
From the things that are seen,
From the children of men,
To the comforts I fly,
To the joys, and the pleasures that never shall die.
From the children of men,
To the comforts I fly,
To the joys, and the pleasures that never shall die.
201
From the world I remove
To a city above,
Whose basis stands fast,
And long as the heavenly Founder shall last.
To a city above,
Whose basis stands fast,
And long as the heavenly Founder shall last.
No mournful complaints
In a city of saints,
No evil, or sin,
No want, or temptation can ever break in.
In a city of saints,
No evil, or sin,
No want, or temptation can ever break in.
No curse to annoy,
No death to destroy,
No trouble, or care,
No anguish, or sorrow, or crying is there.
No death to destroy,
No trouble, or care,
No anguish, or sorrow, or crying is there.
The King of the place
Shall show me His face;
The rapturous sight
Shall fill me with pure and unfading delight.
Shall show me His face;
The rapturous sight
Shall fill me with pure and unfading delight.
O thrice-blessed hope!
Even now it lifts up
My soul to the skies,
And wipes for a moment the tears from my eyes.
Even now it lifts up
My soul to the skies,
And wipes for a moment the tears from my eyes.
The vale I look through
To the glory in view,
That eternal reward
For all, who endure to the end with their Lord.
To the glory in view,
That eternal reward
For all, who endure to the end with their Lord.
For that heavenly prize
The cross I despise,
Till with life I lay down
The burden, through which I inherit the crown.
The cross I despise,
Till with life I lay down
The burden, through which I inherit the crown.
| The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | |