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 | The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley |  |
133
CX. A FATHER'S PRAYER FOR HIS SON.
God of my thoughtless infancy,
My giddy youth, and riper age,
Pierced with Thy love, I worship Thee,
My God, my Guide through every stage;
From countless sins, and griefs, and snares
Preserved, Thy guardian hand I own,
And borne and saved to hoary hairs,
Ask the same mercy for my son.
My giddy youth, and riper age,
Pierced with Thy love, I worship Thee,
My God, my Guide through every stage;
From countless sins, and griefs, and snares
Preserved, Thy guardian hand I own,
And borne and saved to hoary hairs,
Ask the same mercy for my son.
Not yet by the commandment slain,
O may he uncorrupted live,
His simple innocence retain
And dread an unknown God to grieve:
Restrain'd, prevented by Thy love,
Give him the evil to refuse,
And feel Thy drawings from above,
And good, and life, and virtue choose.
O may he uncorrupted live,
His simple innocence retain
And dread an unknown God to grieve:
Restrain'd, prevented by Thy love,
Give him the evil to refuse,
And feel Thy drawings from above,
And good, and life, and virtue choose.
When near the slippery paths of vice
With heedless steps he runs secure,
Preserve the favourite of the skies,
And keep his life and conscience pure:
Shorten his time for childish play,
From youthful lusts and passions screen,
Nor leave him in the wilds to stray
Of pleasure, vanity, and sin.
With heedless steps he runs secure,
Preserve the favourite of the skies,
And keep his life and conscience pure:
Shorten his time for childish play,
From youthful lusts and passions screen,
Nor leave him in the wilds to stray
Of pleasure, vanity, and sin.
Soon may the all-inspiring Dove
With brooding wings his soul o'erspread;
The hidden principle of love,
The pure, incorruptible seed,
Hasten into his heart to sow;
And when the word of power takes place,
Let every blossom knit and grow,
And ripen into perfect grace.
With brooding wings his soul o'erspread;
The hidden principle of love,
The pure, incorruptible seed,
134
And when the word of power takes place,
Let every blossom knit and grow,
And ripen into perfect grace.
| The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | |