1 O God! mine inmost soul convert,
And deeply on my thoughtful heart
Eternal things impress:
Give me to feel their solemn weight,
And tremble on the brink of fate,
And wake to righteousness.
2 Before me place in dread array
The pomp of that tremendous day
When Thou with clouds shalt come
To judge the nations at Thy bar;
And tell me, Lord, shall I be there
To meet a joyful doom?
3 Be this my one great business here,
With serious industry and fear
Eternal bliss t'ensure:
Thine utmost counsel to fulfil,
And suffer all Thy righteous will,
And to the end endure.
4 Then, Saviour, then, my soul receive,
Transported from the vale, to live
And reign with Thee above,
Where faith is sweetly lost in sight,
And hope in full supreme delight,
And everlasting love.
|First Line:||O God! mine inmost soul convert|
|Meter:||C. P. M.|
|Topic:||Contrition; Conversion; Conviction(2 more...)|
|Notes:||Author from index: C. Wesley|