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 | The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley |  |
CCXXIII. THE SAME.
Hymn 33.
[And must I give him up?]
And must I give him up?
And doth the Lord recall
My only joy, my latest prop,
My friend, my earthly all!
I must—I will—comply
With Jesus' just demand,
I do pluck out the dear right eye,
Cut off the dear right hand.
And doth the Lord recall
My only joy, my latest prop,
My friend, my earthly all!
I must—I will—comply
With Jesus' just demand,
I do pluck out the dear right eye,
Cut off the dear right hand.
Wherefore should I complain
In pining discontent,
If God requires His own again,
Resumes the good He lent?
The potter, sure, has power
Over the passive clay,
And whom my God bestow'd this hour,
My God may take away.
In pining discontent,
If God requires His own again,
Resumes the good He lent?
446
Over the passive clay,
And whom my God bestow'd this hour,
My God may take away.
'Twas on these terms alone
That first I call'd him mine,
And vow'd without a murmuring groan
The blessing to resign:
And if my friend He claim,
And hold me to my word,
I bless and magnify His name,
And own Him for my Lord.
That first I call'd him mine,
And vow'd without a murmuring groan
The blessing to resign:
And if my friend He claim,
And hold me to my word,
I bless and magnify His name,
And own Him for my Lord.
The fatal blow I feel
Of His almighty hand,
My grief commanded to conceal,
I bow to His command.
But Thou hast not forbid
My secret tears to flow,
And all my griefs, from mortals hid,
Thou dost with pity know.
Of His almighty hand,
My grief commanded to conceal,
I bow to His command.
But Thou hast not forbid
My secret tears to flow,
And all my griefs, from mortals hid,
Thou dost with pity know.
Of this assured I rest
Thou wouldst not put to pain
(For me if anguish were not best)
This helpless child of man;
The grieved Thou wouldst not grieve,
Increase the sufferer's load,
Me of so great a good bereave
But for my greater good.
Thou wouldst not put to pain
(For me if anguish were not best)
This helpless child of man;
The grieved Thou wouldst not grieve,
Increase the sufferer's load,
Me of so great a good bereave
But for my greater good.
Or if, my faith to prove,
Thou dost resume Thine own,
Thou shalt by a strange turn of love
Restore the render'd loan,
The offering father's hand
Shall drop the lifted knife,
And still Thy merciful command
Shall save my Isaac's life.
Thou dost resume Thine own,
Thou shalt by a strange turn of love
Restore the render'd loan,
447
Shall drop the lifted knife,
And still Thy merciful command
Shall save my Isaac's life.
| The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | |