I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
723. |
724. |
725. |
726. |
727. |
728. |
729. |
730. |
731. |
732. |
733. |
734. |
735. |
736. |
737. |
738. |
739. |
740. |
741. |
742. |
743. |
744. |
745. |
746. |
747. |
748. |
749. |
750. |
751. |
752. |
753. |
754. |
755. |
756. |
757. |
758. |
759. |
760. |
761. |
762. |
763. |
764. |
765. |
766. |
767. |
768. |
769. |
770. |
771. |
772. |
773. |
774. |
775. |
776. |
777. |
778. |
779. |
780. |
781. |
782. |
783. |
784. |
785. |
786. |
787. |
788. |
789. |
790. |
791. |
792. |
793. |
794. |
795. |
796. |
797. |
798. |
799. |
800. |
801. |
802. |
803. |
804. |
805. |
806. |
807. |
808. |
809. |
810. |
811. |
812. |
813. |
814. |
815. |
816. |
817. |
818. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | ||
ANOTHER.
[O death, my hope is full of thee]
O death, my hope is full of thee,
Thou art my immortality,
My longing heart's desire;
The mention of thy lovely name
Kindles within my breast a flame,
And sets me all on fire.
Thou art my immortality,
My longing heart's desire;
The mention of thy lovely name
Kindles within my breast a flame,
And sets me all on fire.
Extend thy arms, and take me in,
Weary of life, and self, and sin;
Be thou my balm, my ease:
I languish till thy face appears;
No longer now the king of fears,
Thou art all loveliness.
Weary of life, and self, and sin;
Be thou my balm, my ease:
I languish till thy face appears;
No longer now the king of fears,
Thou art all loveliness.
I gasp to end my wretched days,
To rush into thy cold embrace,
And there securely rest;
Come, O thou friend of sorrows, come,
Lead to the chambers of the tomb,
And lull me on thy breast.
To rush into thy cold embrace,
And there securely rest;
Come, O thou friend of sorrows, come,
Lead to the chambers of the tomb,
And lull me on thy breast.
I feel that thou hast lost thy sting;
My dying Saviour and my King
Bore all my sins for me;
He tasted death, and made it sweet,
From thee, the eater, brought forth meat,
Eternal life from thee.
My dying Saviour and my King
Bore all my sins for me;
He tasted death, and made it sweet,
From thee, the eater, brought forth meat,
Eternal life from thee.
164
This earth, I know, is not my place;
O that I now might end my race,
And leave a world of sin!
Receive, dear Lord, my parting breath:
Thou, Jesus, hast the keys of death;
Open, and take me in!
O that I now might end my race,
And leave a world of sin!
Receive, dear Lord, my parting breath:
Thou, Jesus, hast the keys of death;
Open, and take me in!
The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | ||