Olney Hymn 12 Ephraim Repenting
My God, till I received Thy stroke,
How like a beast was I
So unaccustom'd to the yoke,
So backward to comply
My God, till I received Thy stroke,
How like a beast was I
So unaccustom'd to the yoke,
So backward to comply
Breathe from the gentle south,
O Lord,
And cheer me from the north;
Blow on the treasures of thy word,
Weak and irresolute is man;
The purpose of to-day,
Woven with pains into his plan,
To-morrow rends away
Oh how I love Thy holy Word,
Thy gracious covenant,
O Lord
It guides me in the peaceful way;
There is a fountain fill'd with blood,
Drawn from Emmanuel's veins;
And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,
Lose all their guilty stains
Dear Lord
accept a sinful heart,
Which of itself complains,
And mourns, with much and frequent smart,
When the British warrior queen, Bleeding from the Roman rods, Sought, with an indignant mien, Counsel of her country's gods, Sage beneath a spreading oak Sat the Druid, hoary chief; Every burning word he spoke Full of rage, and full of grief
...
Fierce passions discompose the mind,
As tempests vex the sea,
But calm, content and peace we find,
When,
Delia, the unkindest girl on earth,
When I besought the fair,
That favour of intrinsic worthA ringlet of her hair,
Refused that instant to
Time, never wand'ring from his annual round,
Bids Zephyr breathe the Spring, and thaw the ground;
Bleak Winter flies, new verdure clothes the plain,
And earth assumes her transient youth again
Hear what God the Lord hath spoken, "O my people, faint and few,
Comfortless, afflicted, broken,
Fair abodes I build for you
Thorns of heartfelt tribulation Shall no more perplex your ways;
The Saviour, what a noble flame Was kindled in his breast,
When hasting to Jerusalem,
He march'd before the rest
Good will to men, and zeal for God,