Go Ad-Free
If you regularly use Hymnary.org, you might benefit from eliminating ads. Consider buying a subscription.
1 Now by the Bowels of my God,
His sharp Distress, his sore Complaints,
By his last Groans, his dying Blood,
I charge my Soul to love the Saints.
2 Clamour and Wrath and War be gone,
Envy and Spite for ever cease,
Let bitter Words no more be known
Amongst the Saints, the Sons of Peace.
3 The Spirit like a peaceful Dove,
Flies from the Realms of Noise and Strife;
Why should we vex and grieve his Love,
Who seals our Souls to heav'nly Life?
4 Tender and kind be all our Thoughts,
Through all our Lives let Mercy run:
So God forgives our num'rous Faults,
For the dear sake of Christ his Son.
Text Information | |
---|---|
First Line: | Now by the Bowels of my God |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1769 |
Scripture: | ; |
Topic: | Charity and Love; Envy and Love; Hatred and Love(3 more...) |