Hymns/Poems of Praise and Worship

Yearning for Purity of Heart

I Thirst, Thou Wounded Lamb of God

~John Wesley~

I thirst, Thou wounded Lamb of God,
To wash me in Thy cleansing blood;
To dwell within Thy wounds; then pain
Is sweet, and life or death is gain.

Take my poor heart, and let it be
Forever closed to all but Thee:
Seal Thou my breast,and let me wear
That pledge of love forever there.

How blest are they who still abide
Close shelter'd in Thy bleeding side!
Who thence their life and strength derive,
And by Thee move, and in Thee live.

What are our works but sin and death,
Till Thou Thy quick'ning Spirit breathe?
Thou giv'st the power Thy grace to move;
O wondrous grace! O boundless love!

How can it be, Thou heavenly King,
That Thou shouldst us to glory bring;
Make slaves the partners of Thy throne,
Deck'd with a never-fading crown?

Hence our hearts melt, our eyes o'erflow,
Our words are lost, nor will we know,
Nor will we think of aught beside,
My Lord, my Love is crucified.
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Jesus, Thine All-victorious Love

~Charles Wesley~

Jesus, thine all-victorious love
Shed in my heart abroad:
Then shall my feet no longer rove,
Rooted and fix'd in God.

O that in me the sacred fire
Might now begin to glow;
Burn up the dress of base desire,
And make the mountains flow.

O that it now from heaven might fall,
And all my sins consume:
Come, Holy Ghost, for Thee I call;
Spirit of burning, come.

Refining fire, go through my heart;
Illuminate my soul;
Scatter Thy life through every part,
And sanctify the whole.

My steadfast soul, from falling free,
Shall then no longer move;
While Christ is all the world to me,
And all my heart of love.
_________________________

Self-Love

~Fredrick Faber~

Oh, I could go through all life's troubles singing,
Turning earth's night to day,
If self were not so fast around me, clinging
To all I do or say.

My very thoughts are selfish, always building
Mean castles in the air;
I use my love of others for a gilding
To make myself look fair.

I fancy all the world engrossed with judging
My merit or my blame;
Its warmest praise seems an ungracious grudging
Of praise which I might claim.

In youth or age, by city, wood, or mountain,
Self is forgotten never;
Where'er we tread, it gushes like a fountain,
And its waters flow for ever.

Alas! no speed in life can snatch us wholly
Out of self's hateful sight;
And it keeps step, whene'er we travel slowly,
And sleeps with us at night.

No grief's sharp knife, no pain's most cruel sawing
Self and the soul can sever:
The surface, that in joy sometimes seems thawing,
Soon freezes worse than ever.

Thus we  are never men, self's wretched swathing
Not letting virtue swell;
Thus is our whole life numbed,for ever bathing
Within this frozen well.

O miserable omnipresence, stretching
Over all time and space,
How have I run from thee, yet found thee reaching 
The goal in every race.

Invitable self! vile imitation
Of universal light,
Within our hearts a dreadful usurpation
Of God's exclusive right!

The opiate balms of grace may haply still thee,
Deep in my nature lying;
For I may hardly hope, alas! to kill thee,
Save by the act of dying.

O Lord! that I could waste my life for others,
With no ends of my own,
That I could pour myself into my brothers,
And live for them alone!

Such was the life Thou livedst, self-abjuring,
Thine own pains never easing,
Our burdens bearing, our just doom enduring,
A life without self-pleasing!
__________________________

Father, glorify Thy name! Whatso'er our Portion Be

~John Bowring~

Father! glorify Thy name!
Whatso'er our portion be,
Wheresoever led by Thee,
If to glory, - if to shame, -
Father! glorify Thy name!

Let Thy name be glorified!
If in doubt and darkness lost,
Hope deceived and purpose crost,
Naught amiss can e'er betide, -
Let Thy name be glorified!

Father! glorify Thy name!
Vain and blind our wishes are;
This can be no idle prayer,
This can be no worthless claim, -
Father, glorify Thy name!
_____________________

Clay to Clay, and Dust to Dust

~John Bowring~

Clay to clay, and dust to dust!
Let them mingle, - for they must!
Give to earth the earthly clod,
For the spirit's fled to God.

Never more shall midnight's damp
Darken round this mortal lamp;
Never more shall noonday's glance
Search this mortal countenance.

Look aloft! The spirit's risen;
Death cannot the soul imprison:
'Tis in heaven that spirits dwell,
Glorious, though invisible.

Thither let us turn our view;
Peace is there, and comfort too;
There shall those we love be found,
Tracing life's eternal round.