Family Hymns (1767)
| Author | Charles Wesley |
|---|---|
| Type | hymn-collection |
| Year | 1767 |
| Passage ID | cw-duke-family-hymns-1767-079 |
| Words | 383 |
| Source | https://divinity.duke.edu/initiatives/wesleyan-methodist/... |
O by thy bloody offering By all thy pangs redeem A sinful soul from suffering That punishment extreme: Unworthy of thy favour, The vilest of the race, Undone, undone for ever, If banish'd from thy face. From thee I must be driven To that infernal grave, Unless thy love be given The sinner here to save: Thy love alone can part me From every sin abhor'd, Into a saint convert me, A transcript of my Lord. Thy love so strong and fervent To this poor soul is vain, Unless thou help thy servant To love my God again: Th' inestimable blessing For thy own sake bestow, While peace and joy unceasing My loving heart o'reflow. Th' affectionate sensation If thou hast bought for me, Of thy mysterious passion The end accomplish'd see, Fulfil my sole desire Thy hidden love to taste, And then my soul require, And let me breathe my last. Page 168 O God of love, come from above, O God that hear'st the prayer, All this mountain load remove, All this world of care. The cause express of my distress I own with grief and anguish: Still for want of pardoning grace, For want of faith I languish. Thou God unknown, for whom I groan In endless lamentation, Wilt thou suffer me to moan, And die without salvation? O when shall I with rapture cry Thy servant hath found favour, Thee my Lord I magnify, I joy in thee my Saviour. For this I pant, athirst and faint, And cry in pain unceasing Give the only good I want, Give the gospel-blessing. Now let me know the grace below To all believers given, Bid me feel thy love, and go In perfect peace to heaven. Delight, and softest sympathy, My faithful heart divide, When I behold the shameful tree Where my beloved died! Page 169 I look on him whose blood redeems, And bears me up to God; I look and while the fountain streams, My tears increase the flood. I want to pour a sea of tears, With blessed grief to mourn, In view of him, whose form appears By my offences torn: My sins have done th' atrocious deed, Have caus'd the killing smart, And pierc'd his soul, and made him bleed The balm that breaks my heart.