The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley

O Father of all,
On Thee let me call,
On Thee let me wait, till upraised from my fall:
My burden of pain
With meekness sustain,
And never revolt, or provoke Thee again.

Mere mercies they are
The judgments I bear,
If saved from the gulf of eternal despair:
All thanks be to Thee,
In my end if there be
Any hope of acceptance, or pardon for me.

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In patient distress
My soul I possess,
Till life and affliction together shall cease;
Till the anguish and smart
Hath broken my heart,
And the mourner is suffer'd in peace to depart.

Till then I forego
All comfort below,
And no other companion but sorrow will know:
My companion and guide
With me shall abide
And only in death shall be torn from my side.

A stranger to hope
I the measure fill up,
And drink the last dregs of the penitent cup.
In trouble's excess
My wishes suppress,
My pining desires of a speedy release.

If such be my doom,
To suffer I come,
To suffer an age within sight of a tomb;
To continue in fear,
With comfort so near,
And live out the days of my punishment here.

Accepting my pain,
I no longer complain,
But wait, till at last I the haven obtain;
Till the storms are all o'er,
And afflicted no more
On a plank of the ship I escape to the shore.

University of Virginia Library

XXXVI. THE SAME.

Hymn 4.

[O Father of all]