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 | The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley |  |
LXXXI. THE SAME.
Hymn 6.
[Hear, O Thou Strength of Israel, hear]
Hear, O Thou Strength of Israel, hear
Thy poor, afflicted people's cry,
From Satan, and his legions near,
To Thee our only Help we fly;
All human confidence resign,
Nor trust in any arm but Thine.
Thy poor, afflicted people's cry,
From Satan, and his legions near,
To Thee our only Help we fly;
All human confidence resign,
Nor trust in any arm but Thine.
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Not one of all the rich, or great,
Or noble, on our side is seen,
They shrink to bear Thy cross's weight,
They seek the praise that comes from men,
Thine honour sell, to save their own,
And leave us to our God alone.
Or noble, on our side is seen,
They shrink to bear Thy cross's weight,
They seek the praise that comes from men,
Thine honour sell, to save their own,
And leave us to our God alone.
Exposed we seem to Satan's will,
As sheep 'midst ravening wolves we lie,
Our foes have learnt the art to kill,
By legal wrong they doom to die
The faithful followers of our Lord,
And slay them as with Ammon's sword.
As sheep 'midst ravening wolves we lie,
Our foes have learnt the art to kill,
By legal wrong they doom to die
The faithful followers of our Lord,
And slay them as with Ammon's sword.
In haste to fill their measure up,
And bring Thy plague on all the race,
Their ears against Thy calls they stop,
Reject the gospel of Thy grace,
Slaughter against Thy people breathe,
And drag Thy messengers to death.
And bring Thy plague on all the race,
Their ears against Thy calls they stop,
Reject the gospel of Thy grace,
Slaughter against Thy people breathe,
And drag Thy messengers to death.
But wilt Thou not Thy cause maintain,
Thy helpless, injured people right?
Yes, Lord; our faith shall not be vain,
Our faith in Thy all-saving might
Shall bring the promised succours down,
And win the fight, and take the crown.
Thy helpless, injured people right?
Yes, Lord; our faith shall not be vain,
Our faith in Thy all-saving might
Shall bring the promised succours down,
And win the fight, and take the crown.
Thou wilt, we steadfastly believe,
Thy glorious arm at last display,
Out of the toils of hell retrieve,
And take us for Thy lawful prey,
Call home Thy flock to exile driven,
And lead us to Thy fold in heaven.
Thy glorious arm at last display,
Out of the toils of hell retrieve,
And take us for Thy lawful prey,
Call home Thy flock to exile driven,
And lead us to Thy fold in heaven.
| The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | |