The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley

Great Author of my being,
Who seest mine inward care,
The ills of Thy decreeing
Enable me to bear;
The justice of Thy sentence
With meekest awe to own,
And spend in deep repentance
My last expiring groan.

The grief beyond expressing
To me, to me impart,
I ask this only blessing
An humble broken heart:
The spirit of contrition
O might I now receive,
For all my soul's ambition
Is worthily to grieve.

In sacred melancholy
I would through life abide,
And wail my days of folly,
My years of sin, and pride,
Far from the paths of pleasure,
Disdaining all relief,
Would count my mournful treasure,
And hug my hoard of grief.

Be this my constant care
From all delight to flee,
And suffer none to share
My sacred misery;

203

No succour, or compassion
Of feeble man I crave,
No earthly consolation,
Or refuge—but the grave.

The friend, whom once I wanted
To mitigate my woe,
Revoked as soon as granted,
I calmly now forego;
My latest strife is over,
The fleeting good to stay,
Nor would I, Lord, recover
Whom Thou hast snatch'd away.

Thou know'st my heart's desire
Is only to be gone,
And silently retire,
And live, and die alone:
No sweet companion near
To catch my latest sighs,
My dying words to hear,
Or close these weary eyes.

Only Thou God of power,
Thou God of love attend,
In that decisive hour,
When pain with life shall end:
Thou only bear my burden,
And help my last distress,
And give me back my pardon,
And bid me die in peace.

O for Thy Jesus' merit,
The forfeiture restore,
And land my fainting spirit
On yonder happy shore:

204

In safety waft me over,
And harbour in Thy breast,
And let me there recover
Mine everlasting rest.

University of Virginia Library

XLVI. THE SAME.

Hymn 3.

[Great Author of my being]