Charles Wesley
(1707-1788)
O glorious hope of perfect love!
It lifts me up to things above;
It bears on eagles’ wings.
It gives my ravished soul a taste,
And makes me for some moments feast
With Jesu’s priests and kings,
With Jesu’s priests and kings.
Prisoner of hope, to Thee I turn,
And, calmly confident, I mourn
And pray and weep for Thee;
Tell me Thy love, Thy secret tell,
Thy mystic name in me reveal,
Reveal Thyself in me,
Reveal Thyself in me.
Rejoicing now in earnest hope
I stand, and from the mountain top
See all the lands below.
Rivers of milk and honey rise
And all the fruits of paradise
In endless plenty grow,
In endless plenty grow.
A land of corn, and wine, and oil;
Favored with God’s peculiar smile,
With ev’ry blessing blest;
There dwells the Lord our Righteousness
And keeps His own in perfect peace
And everlasting rest,
And everlasting rest.
Oh, that I might at once go up;
No more on this side of Jordan stop,
But now the land possess;
This moment end my legal years,
Sorrows and sins, and doubts and fears,
A howling wilderness,
A howling wilderness!1
Now, O my Joshua, bring me in,
Cast out my foes—the inbred sin,
The carnal mind remove.
The purchase of Thy death divide,
And O, with all the sanctified
Give me a lot of love,
Give me a lot of love.
