 | The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley |  |
ROMANS VII. 24.
“Who shall deliver me from the body of this death?”
Thou Son of God, Thou Son of man,
Whose eyes are as a flame of fire,
With kind concern regard my pain,
And mark my labouring heart's desire!
Whose eyes are as a flame of fire,
With kind concern regard my pain,
And mark my labouring heart's desire!
Its inmost folds are known to Thee,
Its secret plague I need not tell;
Nor can I hide, nor can I flee
The sin I ever groan to feel.
Its secret plague I need not tell;
Nor can I hide, nor can I flee
The sin I ever groan to feel.
My soul it easily besets;
About my bed, about my way,
My soul at every turn it meets,
And half persuades me to obey.
About my bed, about my way,
My soul at every turn it meets,
And half persuades me to obey.
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Nothing I am, and nothing have,
Nothing my helplessness can do;
But Thou art good, and strong to save,
And all that seek may find Thee true.
Nothing my helplessness can do;
But Thou art good, and strong to save,
And all that seek may find Thee true.
How shall I ask, and ask aright?
My lips refuse my heart to' obey:
But all my wants are in Thy sight;
My wants, my fears, my sorrows pray.
My lips refuse my heart to' obey:
But all my wants are in Thy sight;
My wants, my fears, my sorrows pray.
I want Thy love, I fear Thy frown,
My own foul sin I grieve to see:
To' escape its force, would now sink down,
And die, if death could set me free.
My own foul sin I grieve to see:
To' escape its force, would now sink down,
And die, if death could set me free.
Yet, O, I cannot burst my chain,
Or fly the body of this death:
Immured in flesh I still remain,
And gasp a purer air to breathe.
Or fly the body of this death:
Immured in flesh I still remain,
And gasp a purer air to breathe.
I groan to break my prison-walls,
And quit the tenement of clay;
Nor yet the shatter'd mansion falls,
Nor yet my soul escapes away.
And quit the tenement of clay;
Nor yet the shatter'd mansion falls,
Nor yet my soul escapes away.
Ah, Lord! Wouldst Thou within me live,
No longer then should I complain,
Nor sighing wish, nor weeping grieve
For Christ my life, or death my gain.
No longer then should I complain,
Nor sighing wish, nor weeping grieve
For Christ my life, or death my gain.
From grief and sin I then should cease;
My loosen'd tongue should then declare
Comfort, and love, and joy, and peace,
Fill all the soul when Christ is there!
My loosen'd tongue should then declare
Comfort, and love, and joy, and peace,
Fill all the soul when Christ is there!
| The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | |