The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley

Fountain of good, from Thee alone
Our every gift and comfort flows,
Whate'er we fondly call our own
Thy freely streaming grace bestows,
Thy blessings all through Christ descend,
Our heavenly and eternal Friend.

Meanest of all Thy sons, on me,
On me Thou hast a gift bestow'd,
Dearer than life, or liberty,
And only less beloved than God,
I take the friend Thy grace has given,
And bless him, till we meet in heaven.

Thither he still points out my way,
And arms my soul with mighty prayers,
Stands by me in the evil day,
And all my griefs and burdens bears,
Blest minister of grace Divine;
But all the glory, Lord, is Thine.

414

Thou only dost the power transfer,
Through which a worm supports the weak,
Thou only dost my spirit cheer
By words which he receives to speak;
Thy secret hand in all I see,
And render all the praise to Thee.

What though my every lucid hour,
My every comfort here below,
My all of hope, or peace, or power,
Through this, this only, channel flow,
The help which on our earth is done
Thou dost it, Lord, and Thou alone.

Thou didst at first the grace impart,
The tender charity Divine,
Will'd him to bear me on his heart,
And love me with a love like Thine,
Pure heavenly love, on earth unknown,
A stream that issues from Thy throne.

And can I, dearest Lord, not love
A soul Thyself endear'st to me?
So like the blessed spirits above,
So restless to be all like Thee,
So long desired, so late bestow'd,
So honour'd, and beloved of God!

But (for I know my wretched heart
Would still Thy noblest gifts abuse)
A second benefit impart,
And grant me grace Thy grace to use,
From all the dross of nature free,
Give me to love that soul for Thee.

415

O may I never, never seek
My own delight, my own applause,
Ready Thy gifts to render back,
To nail my Isaac to the cross,
My all of comfort to resign,
And say, “Thy will be done, not mine.”

Refrain my soul, and keep it low,
Wean'd as a child from creature-good,
Thee, only Thee, resolved to know,
My Jesus, and Thy sprinkled blood:
All other comforts I disdain,
And more than all in Thee I gain.

What are Thy gifts, compared to Thee!
A beam from that bright shining Sun,
A drop from that unfathom'd Sea!
Fountain of life, and love unknown,
Into Thy depths, O God, I fall:
O God, Thou art mine all in all.

University of Virginia Library

CXCVI. THE SAME.

Hymn 6.

[Fountain of good, from Thee alone]