Scripture Verse

…having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof. 2 Timothy 3:5

Introduction

portrait
George A. Löhr (1821–1897)

Words: Charles Wes­ley, Hymns and Sac­red Po­ems 1740, alt.

Music: St. Fran­ces George A. Löhr, 1861 (🔊 pdf nwc).

If you know where to get a bet­ter pho­to of Löhr,

portrait
Charles Wesley (1707–1788)

Written during the dis­putes be­tween the Wes­leys and the Mo­ra­vi­ans con­cern­ing An­ti­mo­ni­an­ism and Per­fec­tion­ism. Dr. Jack­son sums up the con­tro­ver­sy in his Memo­irs of C. Wes­ley (abridged ed., 1848, p. 98) thus:—

Molther was the most ac­tive and stren­uous in pro­pa­gat­ing the er­rors by which ma­ny were mis­led. He con­tend­ed that there are no de­grees in faith; so that those who have not the full and un­cloud­ed as­sur­ance of the di­vine fa­vour, what­ev­er they may pos­sess be­sides, have no faith at all.

Another te­net which he avowed and de­fend­ed was, that till men have faith, they are not to use any of the means of grace, such as the read­ing of the Scrip­tures, at­tend­ing the min­is­try of the Gos­pel, and re­ceiv­ing the Ho­ly Com­mun­ion; these or­din­anc­es be­ing ra­ther in­jur­ious than be­ne­fi­cial, till men have a true and vi­tal faith…The fine hymn on Christian or­din­anc­es…was wri­tten by Mr. C. Wes­ley at this pe­ri­od [1739–40], as an an­ti­dote to the mis­chie­vous er­rors which were pre­va­lent.

Julian, p. 684

Lyrics

Long have I seemed to serve Thee, Lord,
With un­avail­ing pain:
I fasted, prayed, and read Thy Word,
And heard it preached in vain.

Oft did I with th’as­sem­bly join,
And near Thine al­tar drew;
A form of god­li­ness was mine,
The pow­er I ne­ver knew.

I rest­ed in the out­ward law;
Nor knew its deep de­sign:
The length and breadth I ne­ver saw,
The height of love di­vine.

To please Thee thus, at length I see,
I vain­ly hoped and strove:
For what are out­ward things to Thee,
Unless they spring from love?

I see the per­fect law re­quires
Truth in the in­ward parts:
Our full con­sent, our whole de­sires,
Our un­di­vid­ed hearts.

But I of means have made my boast,
Of means an id­ol made;
The spi­rit in the let­ter lost,
The sub­stance in the shade.

Where am I now, or what my hope?
What can my weak­ness do?
Jesus! to Thee my soul looks up:
’Tis Thou must make it new.