The Poetical Works of John and Charles Wesley 22The Thanksgiving

O King of grief! (how strange and true

The name, to Jesus only due!) How, Saviour, shall I grieve for Thee? Who in all griefs preventest me. Then let me vie with Thee in love, And try who there shall conqueror prove. Giv'st Thou me wealth? I will restore All back unto Thee by the poor. Giv'st Thou me honour? All shall see The honour doth belong to Thee: A bosom-friend? If false he prove To Thee, I will tear thence his love. Thee shall my music find: each string Shall have his attribute to sing;

And every note accord in Thee,

To prove one God, one harmony.

Giv'st Thou me knowledge? It shall still

Search out Thy ways, Thy works, Thy will:

Yea, I will search Thy Book, nor move

Till I have found therein Thy love.

Thy love I will turn back on Thee

O my dear Saviour, victory!

Then for Thy passion, I for that

Will do--alas, I know not what!