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CCCII.

Jesu, my strength, my hope,
On Thee I cast my care,
With humble confidence look up,
And know, Thou hear'st my prayer.
Give me on Thee to wait

Till I can all things do,
On Thee, Almighty to create !
Almighty to renew!

I want a sober mind,

A self-renouncing will,

That tramples down and casts behind The baits of pleasing ill:

A soul inured to pain,

To hardship, grief, and loss; Bold to take up, firm to sustain,

The consecrated cross.

I want a godly fear,

A quick-discerning eye,

That looks to Thee when sin is near, And sees the Tempter fly;

A spirit still prepared,

And arm'd with jealous care,
For ever standing on its guard,
And watching unto prayer.

I want a heart to pray,
To pray and never cease,
Never to murmur at Thy stay,
Or wish my sufferings less;
This blessing, above all,
Always to pray, I want,

Out of the deep on Thee to call,
And never, never faint.

I want a true regard,

A single, steady aim,

Unmov'd by threat'ning or reward,
To Thee and Thy great Name;
A jealous, just concern

For Thine immortal praise;
A pure desire that all may learn
And glorify Thy grace.

I rest upon Thy word;
Thy promise is for me;
My succour and salvation, Lord,
Shall surely come from Thee.
But let me still abide,

Nor from my hope remove,

Till Thou my patient spirit guide

Into Thy perfect love!

Charles Wesley. 1742..

IV.

LOVE.

"If ye love Me, keep My commandments."

CCCLII.

(JOHN xiv. 15.)

Jesus, my all, to Heaven is gone;
He that I placed my hopes upon;
His track I see; and I'll pursue
The narrow way, till Him I view.

The way the holy Prophets went,
The road that leads from banishment,
The King's high-way of holiness,
I'll go; for all the paths are peace.

No stranger may proceed therein,
No lover of the world and sin;
No lion, no devouring care,
No ravenous tiger shall be there.

No: nothing may go up thereon
But travelling souls; and I am one:
Wayfaring men, to Canaan bound,
Shall only in the way be found.

Nor fools, by carnal men esteem'd,
Shall err therein; but they, redeem'd
In Jesu's blood, shall show their right
To travel there, till Heav'n's in sight.

This is the way I long have sought,
And mourn'd, because I found it not;
My grief, my burden, long have been
Because I could not cease from sin.

The more I strove against its power,
I sinn'd and stumbled but the more;
Till late I heard my Saviour say,

"Come hither, soul! for I'm the Way!"

Lo! glad I come; and Thou, dear Lamb,
Shalt take me to Thee, as I am:
Nothing but sin I Thee can give ;
Yet help me, and Thy praise I'll live!

I'll tell to all poor sinners round
What a dear Saviour I have found;
I'll point to Thy Redeeming blood.
And say, "Behold the Way to God!"

John Cennick. 1743.

CCCLIII.

Go, worship at Immanuel's feet;
See, in His face what wonders meet;
Earth is too narrow to express

His worth, His glory, or His grace!

The whole creation can afford

But some faint shadows of my Lord;
Nature, to make His beauties known,
Must mingle colours not her own.

Is He compared to Wine or Bread?
Dear Lord, our souls would thus be fed
That flesh, that dying Blood of Thine,
Is Bread of Life, is heavenly Wine.

Is He a Tree? The world receives
Salvation from His healing leaves :
That righteous Branch, that fruitful bough,
Is David's root and offspring too.

Is he a Rose? Not Sharon yields
Such fragrancy in all her fields;
Or if the Lily He assume,

The valleys bless the rich perfume.

Is He a Vine? His heavenly root
Supplies the boughs with life and fruit :
O let a lasting union join

My soul the branch to Christ the Vine!

Is He the Head? Each member lives,
And owns the vital power He gives;
The Saints below and Saints above
Joined by His Spirit and His love.

Is He a Fountain? There I bathe,
And heal the plague of sin and death;
These waters all my soul renew,

And cleanse my spotted garments too.

Is He a Fire? He'll purge my dross;
But the true gold sustains no loss:
Like a Refiner shall He sit,

And tread the refuse with His feet.

Is He a Rock? How firm He proves !
The Rock of Ages never moves:

Yet the sweet streams, that from Him flow,
Attend us all the desert through.

Is He a Way? He leads to God;
The path is drawn in lines of Blood;
There would I walk with hope and zeal,
Till I arrive at Sion's hill.

Is He a Door? I'll enter in ;

Behold the pastures large and green!
A paradise divinely fair;

None but the sheep have freedom there.

Is He design'd a Corner-stone,
For men to build their Heaven upon ?
I'll make Him my Foundation too;
Nor fear the plots of hell below.

Is He a Temple? I adore
The indwelling majesty and power;
And still to His Most Holy Place,
Whene'er I pray, I turn my face.

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