Scripture Verse

Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that ye should follow His steps. 1 Peter 2:21


Henry Carey (1687–1743)

Words: Charles Wes­ley, Hymns and Sac­red Po­ems 1749.

Music: Ca­rey’s Sur­rey Hen­ry Ca­rey, 1723. Har­mo­ny from The Eng­lish Hym­nal (Lon­don: Ox­ford Uni­ver­si­ty Press, 1906), num­ber 491 (🔊 pdf nwc).

Charles Wesley (1707–1788)


Come, O my soul, the call ob­ey,
Take up the bur­den of thy Lord!
His prac­tice is thy liv­ing way,
Thy guide His pure un­er­ring Word;
The love­ly per­fect pat­tern read,
And haste in all His steps to tread.

What did my Lord from sin­ners bear?
His pa­tience is the rule for me;
Walking in Him I can­not err:
And lo! the Man of Griefs I see
Whose life one scene of suf­fer­ings was,
Quite from the man­ger to the cross.

Here then my call­ing I dis­cern,
’Tis writt­en in af­flict­ion’s book,
My first, and lat­est les­son learn,
For no­thing here but suf­fer­ings look,
I bow me to the will di­vine,
To suf­fer with my Lord be mine.

To suf­fer as my Lord I come:
How did the Lamb His wrongs en­dure?
Clamorous and warm? or meek, and dumb?
Did He by force His life se­cure?
His in­jured in­no­cence de­fend;
Or bear His bur­den to the end?

Did He evade the pain, and shame,
Impatient of un­just dis­grace?
Did He throw off the im­put­ed blame?
Did He from spit­ting hide His face?
Did He to man for suc­cor fly?
Or of­fer up Him­self, and die?

When na­ture sank be­neath her load,
Would He the dread­ful cup de­cline?
Prostrate, and bruised, and sweat­ing blood,
Fa­ther, Thy will be done, not Mine,
He speaks, and meets His ene­mies,
And gives them pow­er Him­self to seize.

The Word, which struck them to the ground,
Could it not strike them in­to hell?
Whom all the hosts of Hea­ven sur­round,
He will not force by force re­pel;
Put up, He cries, thy need­less sword,
Nor stain the meek­ness of thy Lord.

He chides His rash dis­ci­ple’s zeal,
Accepts nor man’s nor an­gel’s aid:
Vouchsafes His wound­ed foe to heal:
The hands that had His mur­der­ers made,
He stretch­es out; He lets them bind
The hands that could un­make man­kind.

Doth He in deed or word gain­say,
Or ask or strug­gle to be freed?
The lead the speech­less Lamb away:
To scorn, and pain, and death they lead
The speech­less Lamb; re­signed un­to
The ut­most earth and hell could do.

O that I might like Him with­stand,
Like Him mine in­no­cen­cy clear,
Like Him re­sist the ruf­fi­an band,
Like Him re­fuse the cross to bear,
Like Him the per­se­cut­or fly,
Like Him sub­mit to live, and die?