Classic Poem

A Dialogue or Discourse between the Believing Soul and her Savior.

Oh Christ my grief is such,
Because I love not much;
As addeth to my sore,
Because I grieve no more.

Give me a broken heart,
That may both bleed and smart,
That I so often stray,
That I no more obey.

Oh make me love thee dearly,
And trust in thee sincerely:
And help me well to prove
Mine interest in thy Love.

That God Omnipotent
Is freely well content
To cancel all my debts,
And all my sins forgets.

O Christ let me be thine,
And be thou wholly mine:
Let me be thine entire;
Be thou mine I desire.

Ah poor distressed Soul
So sad and sorrowful,
That weakly dost believe
And wouldst more strength receive;

Behold at thy request
I'm here full ready prest
To save and succour thee;
Fear not to come to me.

Thou didst mine aid implore,
And now it's at thy door
I am thy Surgeon,
Do not thine Healer shun.

Do'st with thine heart embrace
Both me and all my grace?
Canst me thy Treasure make,
And for thy Portion take?

Do'st thou thy self resign,
And yieldest to be mine?
Would'st thou as willinglie
Be rul'd as sav'd by me?

Then I my self entire
Do yield to thy desire.
Believe and do not doubt
I will not cast thee out.

I am and will be thine;
And all this Wealth of mine
Dear purchased by me
I freely give to thee.

Light, pardon, joy and peace,
Eternal life and ease,
With full Redemption,
Shall be thy portion.

Also my Father mild
Thy Father will be styl'd:
My Spirit the Comforter
Shall be thy Strengthener.

He shall thy Will renew
And by degrees subdue
Thy Lusts, and all thy foes
That Holiness oppose.

He will to thee impart
And humble broken heart,
Increase of Spiritual strength,
And victory at length.

Doubt not poor soul; Be strong
For me that waitest long:
And fear not to believe
That I may peace thee give.

Upon me wholly roll
The Burden of thy Soul:
Thy self upon me stay,
And then rejoyce for ay.

Is this my Saviour's voice
That bids me to rejoyce?
To me, vile wretch this word
Directest thou, dear Lord!

Will God be reconcil'd
To one that is so vil'd?
Wilt thou thy self bestow
On me so base and low?

Shall I now live for ay
That went so long astray?
Wilt thou such grace out-stretch
Unto a sinful wretch?

O Gracious Grace indeed!
Shown in a time of need.
O God of Grace, All Grace!
How pleasant is thy face!

To God what shall I render?
Who me vouchsafes to tender
In this my low estate,
Which was so desolate.

Had I a thousand hands
To do what he commands:
Ten thousand Hearts to love him,
To fear him, and improve him,

As many Lives t'xpose
And for his sake to lose:
Yet could I never do him
The service that I ow him.

Thy Love doth all surmount,
And is beyond account:
I never can express,
Sufficient thankfulness.

Yet help me to endeavour
To honour thee for ever;
Thee onely to desire,
Love, Reverence, and Admire:

Thee let me ever serve,
And never from thee swerve:
Let this sweet face of thine
Upon me allways shine.

Let no sin interpose
To hide, or make me lose
Thy Countenances light,
Which on me shines so bright.