The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley

In vengeance, Lord, rebuke me not;
No longer let Thy wrath wax hot,
The sinner to chastise:
Thine arrows in my soul stick fast,
My soul, as now to breathe her last,
Beneath Thy judgments lies!

Crush'd by Thy heavy hand, I groan;
My health is at Thy chiding gone,
My bones are fill'd with pain;
Plagued both in soul and flesh, I grieve;
Restless through sin, I only live
To suffer and complain.

My sins have swept me far from God:
My sins' insufferable load
I groan, I faint, to bear;
My desperate soul His grace implores;
As bruises, wounds, and putrid sores
My sins and follies are.

Mourning I go beneath Thy frown,
Troubled, and all day long bow'd down
With guilt and misery;
Fill'd with a loathsome, sore disease,
No health, alas! no holiness,
No virtue is in me.

In all the feebleness of sin,
Broken, and bruised, and sore within,
For help I ever sigh;
My restless spirit, in deep complaints,
Its total fall aloud laments,
And cries a bitter cry.

But all my wants to Thee are known;
Thou hearest, Lord, my every groan,
Thou seest my desperate case;
My panting heart hath lost its might;
My weeping eyes have lost their light,
Nor view Thy blissful face.

My friends can yield me no relief,
But fly from my contagious grief;
While, hunting for their prey,
My cruel foes are always nigh,
And sin, the world, and Satan try
My helpless soul to slay.

But, still regardless of the wrong,
Deaf to their threats, I held my tongue,
And bore my misery.
No hasty, sharp reply I made:
Thou, Lord, on whom my soul is stay'd,
Shalt answer soon for me.

O that I now might hear Thy voice!
Speak, Lord, nor let my foes rejoice,
And glory in my fall;
Defeat their dire malicious joy,
Their hopes and vain designs destroy,
Confound, confound them all.

For, O! I always falling am!
My helplessness, and sin, and shame
I every moment see;
I see, and all my sins confess,
I grieve at my own wickedness,
And mourn for help to Thee.

Mighty and numberless my foes,
Passions and lusts my hopes oppose,
By fiends and men withstood:
I suffer all their rage can do,
Because my Saviour I pursue,
And dare contend for God.

Ah! leave me not, my God and Lord!
Defer not to fulfil Thy word,
Nor from my soul remove!
Make haste Thy goodness to reveal,
And let me Thy salvation feel
In all-forgiving love.

University of Virginia Library

PSALM XXXVIII.

[In vengeance, Lord, rebuke me not]