The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley

Object of all our knowledge here,
Our one Desire and Hope below,
Jesus, the crucified, draw near,
And with Thy sad disciples go:
Our thoughts and words to Thee are known,
We commune of Thyself alone.

135

How can it be, our reason cries,
That God should leave His throne above?
Is it for man the' Immortal dies!
For man, who tramples on His love!
For man, who nail'd Him to the tree,
O Love! O God! He died for me!

Why, then, if Thou for me hast died,
Dost Thou not yet Thyself impart?
We hoped to feel Thy blood applied,
To find Thee risen in our heart,
Redeem'd from all iniquity,
Saved, to the utmost saved, through Thee.

Have we not then believed in vain,
By Christ unsanctified, unfreed?
In us He is not risen again,
We know not but still He is dead;
No life, no righteousness we have,
Our hopes seem buried in His grave.

Ah! Lord, if Thou indeed art ours,
If Thou for us hast burst the tomb,
Visit us with Thy quickening powers,
Come to Thy mournful followers, come,
Thyself to Thy weak members join,
And fill us with the life Divine.

Thee, the great Prophet sent from God,
Mighty in deed and word we own;
Thou hast on some the grace bestow'd,
Thy rising in their hearts made known;
They publish Thee, to life restored,
Attesting they have seen the Lord.

136

Alas for us, whose eyes are held!
Why cannot we our Saviour see?
With us Thou art, yet still conceal'd:
O might we hear one word from Thee!
Speak, and our unbelief reprove,
Our baseness to mistrust Thy love.

Fools as we are, and slow of heart,
So backward to believe the word!
The prophets' only aim Thou art:
They sang the sufferings of their Lord,
Thy life for ours a ransom given,
Thy rising to ensure our heaven.

Ought not our Lord the death to die,
And then the glorious life to live?
To stoop, and then go up on high?
The pain, and then the joy receive?
His blood the purchase price lay down,
Endure the cross, and claim the crown?

Ought not the members all to pass
The way their Head had pass'd before?
Through sufferings perfected He was,
The garment dipp'd in blood He wore,
That we with Him might die, and rise
And bear His nature to the skies.

University of Virginia Library

HYMN V.

[Object of all our knowledge here]