The Poetical Works of John and Charles Wesley 172The Means of Grace

Long have I seem'd to serve Thee, Lord,

With unavailing pain;

Fasted, and pray'd, and read Thy word,

And heard it preach'd, in vain.

Oft did I with the assembly join,

And near Thine altar drew;

A form of godliness was mine,

The power I never knew.

To please Thee thus (at last I see)

In vain I hoped and strove:

For what are outward things to Thee,

Unless they spring from love?

I see the perfect law requires

Truth in the inward parts,

Our full consent, our whole desires,

Our undivided hearts.

But I of means have made my boast,

Of means an idol made;

The spirit in the letter lost,

The substance in the shade.

I rested in the outward law,

Nor knew its deep design;

The length and breadth I never saw,

And height of love Divine.

Where am I now, or what my hope?

What can my weakness do?

JESU, to Thee my soul looks up,

'Tis Thou must make it new.

Thine is the work, and Thine alone--

But shall I idly stand?

Shall I the written Rule disown,

And slight my God's command?

Wildly shall I from Thine turn back,

A better path to find;

Thy holy ordinance forsake,

And cast Thy words behind?

Forbid it, gracious Lord, that I

Should ever learn Thee so!

No--let me with Thy word comply,

If I Thy love would know.

Suffice for me, that Thou, my Lord,

Hast bid me fast and pray:

Thy will be done, Thy name adored;

'Tis only mine to obey.

Thou bidd'st me search the Sacred Leaves,

And taste the hallow'd Bread:

The kind commands my soul receives,

And longs on Thee to feed.

Still for Thy lovingkindness, Lord,

I in Thy temple wait;

I look to find Thee in Thy word,

Or at Thy table meet.

Here, in Thine own appointed ways,

I wait to learn Thy will:

Silent I stand before Thy face,

And hear Thee say, "Be still!"

"Be still--and know that I am God!"

'Tis all I live to know;

To feel the virtue of Thy blood,

And spread its praise below.

I wait my vigour to renew,

Thine image to retrieve,

The veil of outward things pass through,

And gasp in Thee to live.

I work, and own the labour vain;

And thus from works I cease:

I strive, and see my fruitless pain,

Till God create my peace.

Fruitless, till Thou Thyself impart,

Must all my efforts prove:

They cannot change a sinful heart,

They cannot purchase love.

I do the thing Thy laws enjoin,

And then the strife give o'er:

To Thee I then the whole resign:

I trust in means no more.

I trust in Him who stands between

The Father's wrath and me:

JESU! Thou great eternal Mean,

I look for all from Thee.

Thy mercy pleads, Thy truth requires,

Thy promise calls Thee down!

Not for the sake of my desires--

But, O! regard Thine own!

I seek no motive out of Thee:

Thine own desires fulfil;

If now Thy bowels yearn on me,

On me perform Thy will.

Doom, if Thou canst, to endless pains,

And drive me from Thy face:

But if Thy stronger love constrains,

Let me be saved by grace.