Wesley Corpus

Thou wilt, I trust, the veil remove : My inmost bowels shall resent The yearnings of thy dying love HYMN 26. l. m. 1 T THIRST, thou wounded Lamb of God, A To wash me in thy cleansing blood ; To dwell within thy wounds : then pain Is sweet, and life or death is gain. 2 Take my poor heart, and let it be For ever closed to all but thee ! Seal thou my breast, and let me wear That pledge of love for ever there ! 3 How blest are they who still abide Close shelter' d in thy bleeding side ! Who life and strength from thence derive, And by thee move, and in thee live. 4 What are our works but sin and death, Till thou thy quick'ning Spirit breathe ? Thou giv'st the power thy grace to move : O wondrous grace ! O boundless love ! 5 How can it be, thou heavenly King, That thou should'st us to glory bring ? The Goodness of God. 3\ Make slaves the partners of thy throne, Deck'd with a never-fading crown ? 6 Hence our hearts melt ; our eyes o'erflow ; Our words are lost ; nor will we know, Nor will we think of aught beside, " My Lord, my Love is crucified." 7 Ah, Lord ! enlarge our scanty thought, To know the wonders thou hast wrought ; Unloose our stammering tongues, to tell Thy love immense, unsearchable. 8 First-born of many brethren Thou ! To thee, lo ! all our souls we bow : To thee our hearts and hands we give : Thine may we die : thine may we live ! HYMN 27. 2-6's Sf 4-7'.?. 1 C AVIOUR, the world's and mine, ^ Was ever grief like thine ? Thou my pain, my curse hast took, All my sins were laid on thee : Help me, Lord ; to thee I look ; Draw me, Saviour, after thee. 2 'Tis done ! My God hath died ; My Love is crucified ! Break, this stony heart of mine ; Pour, mine eyes, a ceaseless flood ; Feel, my soul, the pangs divine ; Catch, my heart, the issuing blood ! 3 When, O my God, shall 1 For thee submit to die ? How the mighty debt repay ?