The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley

O might the gracious Hand
Which into being brought,
Transport me to that quiet land,
Where all things are forgot!
That land of settled rest,
Where fear, and grief is o'er,
And loss, and pain no more molest,
And sin torments no more.

This mountain load of care,
This bitterness of shame,
This memory—I shall lose it there,
With all I feel, and am:
In sweet oblivion drown'd
My sorrows all shall cease;
There only peace for me is found,
A sure eternal peace.

I dare not hope to see
My sufferings end below,
But wait the hour that sets me free
From life, and all its woe:
No gleam of joy shall steal
Into this wretched heart,
Till God His perfect love reveal,
And bid me hence depart.

214

Harden'd in just despair
I hug the destined cross,
The wound incurable I bear,
The' irreparable loss:
The pangs through which I groan
On earth shall never end,
For O! eternity alone
Can give me back my friend.

O happy, happy hope,
(My only hope of bliss,)
I, even I, shall there look up,
And see my troubles cease;
Beyond the cruel power
Of sin I there shall be,
I, even I, shall reach the shore
Of calm eternity.

Come then, my friendly foes,
With kindest violence come,
Fill up the measure of my woes,
Hasten my spirit home.
Let grief, and loss, and shame
With men and devils join,
To drive a wretch—without a name—
Into the arms Divine.

University of Virginia Library

LIII. THE SAME.

Hymn 10.

[O might the gracious Hand]