The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley

Ah! Lord, regard the pains I feel,
No more from me Thyself conceal,
No more Thy help defer,
Regard (or utterly I faint)
My bitter cry, my sad complaint,
My agonizing prayer.

The foe comes on insulting loud,
Strengthen'd by all the' ungodly crowd,
Meek innocence to slay;

122

They come with full malicious power,
And wrathful hatred, to devour
Their unresisting prey.

My heart is pain'd within my breast,
I sink by fear of death oppress'd,
And tremble at my doom,
O'erwhelm'd with dread and sore affright,
And horror deep as Egypt's night,
Or hell's tremendous gloom.

O that I from the world could fly,
And 'scape the lowering tempest nigh!
O that the heavenly Dove
Would lend His wings my flight to aid,
And to some unfrequented shade
My fluttering soul remove!

How gladly would I haste away,
And in some distant desert stay,
Enjoy my long-sought rest,
Indulge my calmly pensive grief,
And find at last my full relief
In Jesu's loving breast.

But O! I still with sinners dwell,
Whose tongues are set on fire of hell;
Thou, Lord, their tongues divide,
Their malice blast, their fury tame,
Destroy their hopes, and put to shame
The sons of strife and pride.

Their violence I have felt and seen:
A city of oppressive men,
The world in Satan lies;

123

Restless they walk their sinful round,
Mischief in all their streets is found,
And miserable vice.

Their cruel guile, and cursed art,
And slanders foul have broke my heart,
And still my bosom tear;
Forced to survive my murder'd fame,
The' intolerable load of shame
My nature groans to bear.

Less had I felt the deadly blow,
Inflicted by an open foe,
Who first avow'd his hate;
I might have hoped his rage to shun,
Or sunk, without a murmuring groan,
Beneath my milder fate.

But he that dealt the treacherous wound,
And smote mine honour to the ground,
And triumph'd in my smart,
Was once my bosom-friend and guide:
And thou hast gored thy partner's side,
And stabb'd me to the heart.

But oh! what penal woes shall seize
The desperate slaves of wickedness!
Who here with Satan dwell,
They shall with Satan dwell beneath,
Arrested by the pains of death,
And tumbled into hell.

Till then I to the Lord will pray,
The Lord shall soon His arm display,
And save me from my fear,

124

At morn, and eve, and noon, my cry
And instant prayer shall pierce the sky,
And force my God to hear.

He hath preserved me by His might,
And rescued in the' unequal fight,
And made my conflicts cease;
God and His saints were on my side,
And still the blood of sprinkling cried,
Restore that sinner's peace!

He still the' united prayer shall hear,
Again in my behalf appear,
For God is still the same;
My foes He shall in wrath cast down,
Who will not turn, or fear His frown,
Or tremble at His name.

Against his peaceable ally
He rose, and broke the covenant-tie,
And show'd his treacherous art;
Smoother than oil I found his words,
Yet sharper far than naked swords,
For war was in his heart.

O thou who like reproach dost bear,
Cast on the Lord, with me, thy care,
And He shall still sustain:
He never will forsake the just,
Or let them fall, by Him who trust
To be brought up again.

But God shall cast into the pit
The men of violence and deceit,
And end their shorten'd days;

125

Whilst still to Thee by faith I live,
To Thee, O God, the glory give,
And ever sing Thy praise.

University of Virginia Library

PSALM LV.

[Ah! Lord, regard the pains I feel]