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| XX. |
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| XXV. | HYMN XXV.
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| XXVIII. |
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 | The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley |  |
HYMN XXV.
[Still let me in Thy Spirit pray]
Still let me in Thy Spirit pray,
Still my infirmity confess:
Take this tormenting fear away,
Nor leave me in my last distress;
While grappling with my mortal foe,
O might I find Thy arms beneath,
Assured that I shall never know
The bitter pains of endless death.
Still my infirmity confess:
Take this tormenting fear away,
Nor leave me in my last distress;
376
O might I find Thy arms beneath,
Assured that I shall never know
The bitter pains of endless death.
The pains which soul and body part,
Which only less than hell I dread,
O might Thy pitying love avert,
And gently smooth my dying bed!
My coward flesh the conflict flies,
And shrinks from the last agony:
Remembering Thy own tears and cries,
Jesus, in death remember me!
Which only less than hell I dread,
O might Thy pitying love avert,
And gently smooth my dying bed!
My coward flesh the conflict flies,
And shrinks from the last agony:
Remembering Thy own tears and cries,
Jesus, in death remember me!
When nature's strength, and spirits fail,
And all the' infernal powers combined
My conscience furiously assail,
And Satan brings my sins to mind;
The fierce accusing fiend restrain,
Prevent, or break his final blow,
And, ransom'd through Thy bleeding pain,
I trample on my vanquish'd foe.
And all the' infernal powers combined
My conscience furiously assail,
And Satan brings my sins to mind;
The fierce accusing fiend restrain,
Prevent, or break his final blow,
And, ransom'd through Thy bleeding pain,
I trample on my vanquish'd foe.
I sing the new triumphant song,
O death, where is thy boasted sting?
Salvation doth to God belong,
Who doth to me salvation bring!
Thanks be to God through Christ alone,
Who gives the final victory,
Mingles with His my latest groan,
And bids me die His face to see.
O death, where is thy boasted sting?
Salvation doth to God belong,
Who doth to me salvation bring!
Thanks be to God through Christ alone,
Who gives the final victory,
Mingles with His my latest groan,
And bids me die His face to see.
| The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | |