Scripture Verse

Awake, awake, stand up, O Jerusalem, which hast drunk at the hand of the Lord the cup of His fury; thou hast drunken the dregs of the cup of trembling, and wrung them out. Isaiah 51:17

Introduction

Words: Charles Wes­ley, Hymns and Sac­red Po­ems (Bris­tol, Eng­land: Fe­lix Far­ley, 1749), vol­ume 1, num­ber 4, part 4, alt.

Music: Em­man­u­el Carl C. N. Balle, 1850 (🔊 pdf nwc).

Alternate Tunes:

portrait
Charles Wesley
1707–1788

Lyrics

Awake, Jerusalem, awake,
Thou that hast drunk the trembling cup,
The slumber from thy spirit shake,
Beneath thy mighty woes stand up.

Thou that hast drunk the deadly wine
Of pain, astonishment, and fear,
The last sad dregs of wrath divine;
Awake, and see thy Savior near.

Of all her sons whom she brought forth,
Of all her sons whom Sion bred,
Not one can help her by his worth,
Not one can his weak mother lead.

Not one attempts with pious care
To guide her in the paths of peace:
Ah! who shall Sion’s burdens bear?
Ah! who shall bid thy sufferings cease?

Famine and sword have laid thee waste;
Sin, the destroying angel’s sword
Throughout thy desolate land has passed,
Joined with a famine of the word.

By whom shall I thy sorrows cheer?
As a wild bull thy sons lie bound,
And struggling in the hunter’s snare,
Are bellowing thro’ their spirit’s wound.

Fainting in all the streets they lie,
O’erwhelmed beneath their guilty load,
Rebuked by Him they dared defy,
Full of the fury of thy God.

Wherefore to thee the Lord hath said,
(Oppressed and drunk with wrath divine)
The Lord thy God, who deigns to plead
His people’s desperate cause, and thine;

“Lo! I thy soul have freely loved,
I have displayed My mercy’s power,
The cup out of thy hands removed,
And thou shalt never taste it more.

“Mine indignation’s dreadful cup
The portion of thy foes shall be,
Thy, they shall all the dregs drink up:
The cup of blessing is for thee.

“Thee, Sion, thee: so long compelled
To stoop at the oppressor’s frown,
Enslaved by man, and forced to yield,
When sin, or Satan, cried ‘Bow down.’

“Poor vassal! to rebel afraid,
Thy baseness bowed to every lust,
As clay thou hast thy body laid,
And mixed thy spirit with the dust.

“But I, the righteous Lord, on all
That tread thee down will vengeance take,
My fury on thy sin shall fall,
Mine arm an end of sin shall make.

Its being with its power destroy,
The inward stumbling block remove,
And fill thee with unfading joy,
And crown thee with eternal love.