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The Book of Praise.
Fain would I learn of Thee, my God, Thy light and easy burden prove,
The cross, all stain'd with hallow'd blood. The labour of Thy dying love.
This moment would I take it up, And after my dear Master bear ;
With Thee ascend to Calvary's top, And bow my head and suffer there.
I would ; but Thou must give the power.
My heart from every sin release : Bring near, bring near the joyful hour,
And fill me with Thy perfect peace !
Come, Lord, the drooping sinner cheer, Nor let Thy chariot-wheels delay !
Appear, in my poor heart appear ! My God, my Saviour, come away !
Charles Wesley. 1742. |
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CCCXLIV.
Come, let us to the Lord our God With contrite hearts return ;
Our God is gracious, nor will leave The desolate to mourn.
His voice commands the tempest forth,
And stills the stormy wave ; And, though His arm be strong to smite,
'Tis also strong to save.
Long hath the night of sorrow reign'd ;
The dawn shall bring us light ; God shall appear, and we shall rise
With gladness in His sight. |
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