The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley

O take away Thy rod,
A dying sinner spare!
My punishment, Almighty God,
Is more than I can bear:
I haste to my own place,
From sin to sin I fall,
Abandon'd by restraining grace;
Yet I deserve it all.

My just desert is more,
If more on earth can be,
My sin required it long before
That Thou shouldst cast off me,
Shouldst take my pardon back,
Cut short my gracious day,
Forget; and utterly forsake,
And cast me quite away.

398

Jesus—but O! at last
He shuts His mercy's door;
My doom is fix'd, my hour is past;
He answers me no more;
My days extinct, my hope
Cut off, my heart is stone,
The measure of my sin fill'd up,
And peace for ever gone.

The sin avenging God
His fiery wrath darts in,
Adds woe to woe, and load to load,
And chastens sin with sin:
The pangs of hell I taste,
The bitter trembling cup;
His arrows in my soul stick fast,
And drink my spirits up.

O horrid, horrid state!
O depth of hopeless woe!
Why do I in this torture wait,
And not the utmost know?
Why do I lingering stand,
And not myself relieve?—
It must be God that stops my hand,
And forces me to live.

But is it possible
That God should care for me!
Then may He yet my doom repeal,
And end my misery.
He may for Jesu's sake:
Jesus, the sinner's Peace,
Into Thy hands the matter take,
And all my griefs shall cease.

399

Save me! I ask not how;
But save me in this hour:
O snatch me from destruction now,
Nor let the foe devour:
I ask not instant rest,
But let me bear my load,
And find at last my Saviour's breast,
And sink into my God.

This is my utmost hope
(When all Thy wrath is past,
When I have drunk the poison up,)
To taste Thy love at last;
When I have borne my shame,
And suffer'd all my sin,
Open Thine arms, Thou lovely Lamb,
And take the sinner in.

If hope be in my end,
I all things else resign;
Yet on Thy sufferings I depend,
And not, O Lord, on mine.
But let me hide my face,
And sink into the dust,
Till Thou at last restore Thy grace,
And freely save the lost.

Be it a vale of tears
Where'er I live below,
Throughout my evil days, or years,
Still let mine eyes o'erflow.
But ere I end my race,
Bid me Thy mercy prove,
And let my latest breath be praise,
My latest passion love.

University of Virginia Library

LX. THE SAME.

Hymn 10.

[O take away Thy rod]