The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley

What matters it to me,
When a few days are past,
Where I shall end my misery,
Where I shall breathe my last?
The meanest house or cot
The hoary hairs may screen
Of one who would be clean forgot,
And live and die unseen.

139

Exposed I long have been
In this bleak vale of tears,
Midst scenes of vanity and sin
Consumed my threescore years:
I turn my face aside,
Sick of beholding more,
And wish the latest storm to' outride,
And reach the happy shore.

As dead already here,
Without desire or hope,
Till from this earth I disappear,
I give the creature up,
In temporal despair
Contentedly abide,
And in my flesh the tokens bear
Of Jesus crucified.

A prisoner of the Lord,
Where He appoints I wait,
In age to be renew'd, restored
To my unsinning state,
My only want I feel
Jesus my peace to know,
In Him to live, in Him to dwell,
And die to all below.

Jesus, my hope, my rest,
This load of sin remove,
Thy name, Thy nature manifest
In purity and love:

140

And when in knowing Thee
The heavenly life I live,
Set my imprison'd spirit free,
And to Thyself receive.

University of Virginia Library

CXV.

[What matters it to me]