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 | The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley |  |
LXXXVI. THE SAME.
Hymn 3.
[I, I am the man that have known]
I, I am the man that have known
Distress by the stroke of His rod:
And still through the anguish I groan,
And pine for the absence of God:
The happy in Jesus, may sleep:
But O! till in me He appears,
Be this my employment to weep,
And water my couch with my tears.
Distress by the stroke of His rod:
And still through the anguish I groan,
And pine for the absence of God:
The happy in Jesus, may sleep:
But O! till in me He appears,
Be this my employment to weep,
And water my couch with my tears.
Or, rather, if any are nigh,
Forlorn, and afflicted like me,
All night let us lift up our cry,
And mourn His appearing to see,
(As watchmen expecting the morn)
Look out for the light of His face,
And wait for His mercy's return,
And long to recover His grace.
Forlorn, and afflicted like me,
All night let us lift up our cry,
And mourn His appearing to see,
(As watchmen expecting the morn)
Look out for the light of His face,
And wait for His mercy's return,
And long to recover His grace.
His grace to our souls did appear,
And brought us salvation from sin;
We felt our Immanuel here,
Restoring His kingdom within:
But O! we have lost him again,
His Spirit hath taken its flight,
Our joy, it is turn'd into pain,
Our day it is turn'd into night.
And brought us salvation from sin;
We felt our Immanuel here,
Restoring His kingdom within:
But O! we have lost him again,
His Spirit hath taken its flight,
Our joy, it is turn'd into pain,
Our day it is turn'd into night.
265
O what shall we do to retrieve
The love for a season bestow'd!
'Tis better to die than to live
Exiled from the presence of God:
With sorrow distracted, and doubt,
With palpable horror oppress'd,
The city we wander about,
And seek our repose in His breast.
The love for a season bestow'd!
'Tis better to die than to live
Exiled from the presence of God:
With sorrow distracted, and doubt,
With palpable horror oppress'd,
The city we wander about,
And seek our repose in His breast.
Ye watchmen of Israel, declare
If ye our Beloved have seen,
And point to that Heavenly Fair,
Surpassing the children of men:
Our Lover and Lord from above,
Who only can quiet our pain,
Whom only we languish to love,
O where shall we find Him again!
If ye our Beloved have seen,
And point to that Heavenly Fair,
Surpassing the children of men:
Our Lover and Lord from above,
Who only can quiet our pain,
Whom only we languish to love,
O where shall we find Him again!
The joy, and desire of our eyes,
The end of our sorrow and woe,
Our hope, and our heavenly prize,
Our height of ambition below;
Once more if He show us His face,
He never again shall depart,
Detain'd in our closest embrace,
Eternally held in our heart.
The end of our sorrow and woe,
Our hope, and our heavenly prize,
Our height of ambition below;
Once more if He show us His face,
He never again shall depart,
Detain'd in our closest embrace,
Eternally held in our heart.
| The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | |