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And Wilt Thou Yet Be Found (a.k.a. Resignation)

Charles Wesley

And ye shall seek Me, and find Me,
when ye shall search for Me with all your heart.
— Jeremiah 29:13

And wilt Thou yet be found?
And may I still draw near?
Then listen to the plaintive sound
Of a poor sinner’s prayer.

Jesu, Thine aid afford,
If still the same Thou art;
To Thee I look, to Thee, my Lord,
Lift up a helpless heart.

Thou seest my tortured breast,
The strugglings of my will,
The foes that interrupt my rest,
The agonies I feel;

The daily death I prove,
Savior, to Thee is known;
’Tis worse than death, my God to love,
And not my God alone.1

My peevish passions chide,
Who only canst control,
Canst turn the stream of nature’s tide,
And calm my troubled soul.

O my offended Lord,
Restore my inward peace;
I know Thou canst pronounce the word
And bid the tempest cease.

Abate the purging fire,
And draw me to my good;
Allay the fever of desire,
By sprinkling me with blood.

I long to see Thy face;
Thy Spirit I implore,
The living water of Thy grace,
That I may thirst no more.

When shall Thy love constrain
And force me to Thy breast?
When shall my soul return again
To her eternal rest?

Ah! what avails my strife,
My wandering to and fro?
Thou hast the words of endless life,
Ah! whither should I go?

Thy condescending grace
To me did freely move;
It calls me still to seek Thy face,
And stoops to ask my love.

Lord, at Thy feet I fall,
I groan to be set free,
I fain would now obey the call,
And give up all for Thee.

To rescue me from woe,
Thou didst with all things part,
Didst lead a suffering life below,
To gain my worthless heart;

My worthless heart to gain,
The God of all that breathe
Was found in fashion as a man,
And died a cursèd death.

And can I yet delay
My little all to give?
To tear my soul from earth away
For Jesus to receive?

Nay, but I yield, I yield!
I can hold out no more;
I sink, by dying love compelled,
And own Thee Conqueror.

Though late, I all forsake;
My friends, my life resign;
Gracious Redeemer, take, O take,
And seal me ever Thine!

Come, and possess me whole,
Nor hence again remove;
Settle and fix my wavering soul
With all Thy weight of love.

My one desire be this,
Thy only love to know,
To seek and taste no other bliss,
No other good below.

My life, my portion Thou,
Thou all-sufficient art,
My hope, my heavenly treasure, now
Enter, and keep my heart.

Rather than let it burn
For earth, O quench its heat;
Then, when it would to earth return,
O let it cease to beat.

Snatch me from ill to come,
When I from Thee would fly,
O take my wandering spirit home,
And grant me then to die!


Lyre and Wreath, used under license from www.123rf.com (santi0103/123RF Stock Photo)

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Image credit: Copyright: santi0103/123RF Stock Photo
Used under license
  1. The last two lines of this fourth stanza are reported by John Wesley as a part of Jane Cooper’s testimony in A Plain Account of Christian Perfection: Part 3.
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