Wesley Corpus

I cannot pray, I cannot praise, For grace I cannot call, I cannot feel my want of grace, My soul is stript of all. A vile, unworthy worm, my eyes I dare not lift to heaven, Let him, who sees me from the skies, Speak if I am forgiven. Or let my Lord still hold his peace, And do as seems him good, Forsake me in my last distress, And leave me in my blood. Page 35 If he can find it in his heart, His fury let him pour On me, and from my soul depart, And never love me more. I leave it all to him alone, It lies within his breast, His will, his only will be done, Let me be curst, or blest. Another "O that I had wings like a dove, for then would I flee away, and be at rest." Psalm lv. 6. BCP. Omniscient God, whose eyelids try The self-deceiving sons of men, To thee how shall I dare draw nigh, A man of lips and heart unclean! Thou know'st, I mean not what I say, Thou know'st, I only seem to pray. Doubtless thou art of purer eyes Than to behold iniquity, And all my nature naked lies, And all my thoughts appear to thee, No fig-leaves from thy sight can hide My filthiness of self, and pride. O my abominable heart! Its secrets all to thee are known, The sin from which I cannot part, The sin that claims me for its own; Thou seest it all, my nature's shame, Thou seest, what I should die to name. The foul reproach I groan to bear, And vainly struggle to get free, Yet still I breathe a tainted air, Tainted, alas! By sin and me, And wish for wings to flee away, And ever in the desart stay. Page 36 O that I had a cottage there To lodge a poor wayfaring man! Far from the world of noise, and care, Of grief, anxiety, and pain, O could I from my people roam, And be, where none but God could come. Me as a bowl if now he turn, To foreign climes with violence toss, I would not for a moment mourn My kindred, or my country's loss; A voluntary exile I Would there consent to live, and die.