Long have I seem'd to serve Thee, Lord, With unavailing Pain; Fasted, pray'd, and read thy Word, And heard it preach'd, in vain.
Oft did I with th' Assembly join, And near Thine Altar drew; A Form of Godliness was mine. The Pow'r I never knew.
To please Thee, thus (at last I see) In vain I hop'd, 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 Heighth 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; Thine 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 ador'd; 'Tis only mine t'obey.
Thou bidst 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 Loving Kindness, 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 thro', 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 gives 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 Oh! 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 sav'd by Grace.