CCCXXXIV. In evil long I took delight, Sure never till my latest breath It seem'd to charge me with His death, I saw my sins His Blood had spilt, Alas! I knew not what I did! A second look He gave, which said, "This Blood is for thy ransom paid; “I die, that thou may'st live.” Thus, while His death my sin displays In all its blackest hue, Such is the mystery of grace, It seals my pardon too. With pleasing grief, and mournful joy, My spirit now is fill'd, That I should such a life destroy, Yet live by Him I kill'd. John Newton 1779. II. THE ANSWER. “I will arise, and go to my Father."—(LUKE xv. 18.) CCCXXXV. And have I measured half my days, And half my journey run, Nor tasted the Redeemer's grace, Nor yet my work begun ? The morning of my life is past, Darkness He makes His secret place, Thick clouds surround His Throne; A God that hides Himself He is, An inaccessible Abyss Of uncreated Light. Far off He is, yet always near; O'er earth a banish'd man I rove, Where is the pardoning God of Love, I sought Him in the secret cell Long did I in the desert dwell, Still every means in vain I try; God is in this, in every place : Empty of Him, who all things fills, O Thou, who seest and know'st my grief, Pity my helpless unbelief, And take away the stone! Regard me with a gracious eye; A darker soul did never yet Thy promised help implore: O! that I now my Lord might meet, And never lose Him more ! Charles Wesley. 1749. CCCXXXVI. O Thou, whose tender mercy hears Whose hand indulgent wipes the tears See, low before Thy throne of grace, And shall my guilty fears prevail Absent from Thee, my Guide, my Light, Through dangers, fears, and gloomy night, O shine on this benighted heart, Thy presence only can bestow Anne Steele. 1760. CCCXXXVII. When shall Thy love constrain And force me to Thy breast? When shall my soul return again To her eternal rest? Ah! what avails my strife, My wandering to and fro? Thou hast the words of endless life; Ah! whither should I go? Thy condescending grace To me did freely move; It calls me still to seek Thy face, Lord! at Thy feet I fall; Though late, I all forsake, Come, and possess me whole, Nor hence again remove: Settle, and fix my wavering soul With all Thy weight of love! My one desire be this, To seek and taste no other bliss, No other good below. |