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The Book of Praise.
Contented now upon my thigh I halt, till life's short journey end ;
All helplessness, all weakness, I
On Thee alone for strength depend ;
Nor have I power from Thee to move ;
Thy Nature, and Thy Name, is Love.
Lame as I am, I take the prey,
Hell, earth, and sin, with ease o'ercome ; I leap for joy, pursue my way,
And as a bounding hart fly home ! Through all eternity to prove, Thy Nature and Thy Name is Love!
Charles Wesley. 1742.
CCCXLVI.
Hark, my soul! it is the Lord, Tis thy Saviour, hear His word: Jesus speaks, and speaks to thee ; " Say, poor sinner, lov'st thou Me ?
" I delivered thee when bound, u And, when bleeding, heal'd thy wound ; " Sought thee wandering, set thee right, "Turn'd thy darkness into light.
" Can a woman's tender care
" Cease towards the child she bare ?
" Yes, she may forgetful be ;
" Yet will I remember thee !
" Mine is an unchanging love, " Higher than the heights above, u Deeper than the depths beneath, " Free and faithful, strong as death. |
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