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 | The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley |  |
CCXXII. THE SAME.
Hymn 32.
[Fluttering soul, what dost thou here]
Fluttering soul, what dost thou here,
Pinion'd with a load of clay?
Poor afflicted sojourner,
Shake thy wings, and fly away,
From the mournful valley fly,
Break the cage, and reach the sky.
Pinion'd with a load of clay?
Poor afflicted sojourner,
Shake thy wings, and fly away,
From the mournful valley fly,
Break the cage, and reach the sky.
What doth this low earth afford
Worthy an immortal mind?
Man, its miserable lord,
Can he here his equal find?
Fallen, yet in ruins great,
Sinks the world beneath his weight.
Worthy an immortal mind?
Man, its miserable lord,
Can he here his equal find?
Fallen, yet in ruins great,
Sinks the world beneath his weight.
445
All on earth is vanity,
This I surely feel and know,
Good itself is ill to me,
Seeming joy but real woe,
Comforts double my distress,
Edge the pain they cannot ease.
This I surely feel and know,
Good itself is ill to me,
Seeming joy but real woe,
Comforts double my distress,
Edge the pain they cannot ease.
Friendship's self, celestial guest,
Can she make me happy here?
Answer this distracted breast,
Answer this foreboding fear!
Fear to lose outweighs my gain,
Heighten'd bliss is heighten'd pain.
Can she make me happy here?
Answer this distracted breast,
Answer this foreboding fear!
Fear to lose outweighs my gain,
Heighten'd bliss is heighten'd pain.
Oh! that all the pain were past,
Never, never to return!
Might I but escape at last,
Cease at once to live and mourn,
Grasp through death the' immortal prize,
Meet my friend in paradise.
Never, never to return!
Might I but escape at last,
Cease at once to live and mourn,
Grasp through death the' immortal prize,
Meet my friend in paradise.
| The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | |