 | I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
 | V. |
|
| II. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
| CLXIX. |
|
| CLXXII. |
| CLXXIII. |
| CLXXIV. |
| CLXXV. |
| CLXXVI. |
|
|
| CLXXXII. |
| CLXXXIII. |
| CLXXXIV. |
| CLXXXV. |
| CLXXXVI. |
| CLXXXVII. |
| CLXXXVIII. |
| CLXXXIX. |
| CXC. |
| CXCI. |
| CXCII. |
| CXCIII. |
| CXCIV. |
| CXCV. |
|
| CC. |
| CCI. |
|
|
| CCVI. |
| CCVII. |
| CCVIII. |
| CCIX. |
| II. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
 | The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley |  |
188
HYMN I.
[Ah, sister in Jesus, adieu!]
Ah, sister in Jesus, adieu!
Thy warfare is happily o'er:
Thy spirit has fought its way through,
And pitch'd on the heavenly shore;
Thy course upon earth is all run,
The days of thy mourning are past,
The joys that above thou hast won
For ever and ever shall last.
Thy warfare is happily o'er:
Thy spirit has fought its way through,
And pitch'd on the heavenly shore;
Thy course upon earth is all run,
The days of thy mourning are past,
The joys that above thou hast won
For ever and ever shall last.
O blessed estate of the dead,
The dead that have died in the Lord!
From trouble and misery freed,
And sure of their endless reward:
By sorrow no longer oppress'd,
When join'd to the spirits above,
With Jesus in glory they rest,
They rest in the arms of His love.
The dead that have died in the Lord!
From trouble and misery freed,
And sure of their endless reward:
By sorrow no longer oppress'd,
When join'd to the spirits above,
With Jesus in glory they rest,
They rest in the arms of His love.
O when will the Saviour extend
The arms of His mercy to me?
The days of my pilgrimage end,
My soul from its prison set free?
When will the dear moment arrive,
Which long I have pined for in vain:
And still I would die to revive,
And suffer with Jesus to reign?
The arms of His mercy to me?
The days of my pilgrimage end,
My soul from its prison set free?
189
Which long I have pined for in vain:
And still I would die to revive,
And suffer with Jesus to reign?
Ah! give me to bow my faint head,
My sorrowful soul to resign,
From pain everlastingly freed,
To sink on the bosom Divine:
My Saviour, why dost Thou delay
To call a poor wanderer home?
Come quickly, and bear me away;
The bride and the Spirit say, Come!
My sorrowful soul to resign,
From pain everlastingly freed,
To sink on the bosom Divine:
My Saviour, why dost Thou delay
To call a poor wanderer home?
Come quickly, and bear me away;
The bride and the Spirit say, Come!
| The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | |