Scripture Verse

The Spirit and the bride say, Come. Revelation 22:17

Introduction

portrait
John B. Dykes
(1823–1876)

Words: Charles Wes­ley, Hymns and Sac­red Po­ems (Bris­tol, Eng­land: Fe­lix Far­ley, 1742), pag­es 301–04.

Music: Laud John B. Dykes, 1862 (🔊 pdf nwc).

portrait
Charles Wesley
(1707–1788)

Lyrics

Lord, I believe Thy work of grace
Is perfect in the soul;
His heart is pure, who sees Thy face,
His spirit is made whole.

From every sickness by Thy Word,
From every sore disease
Saved, and to perfect health restored,
To perfect holiness.

He walks in glorious liberty,
To sin entirely dead,
The Truth, the Son hath made him free,
And he is free indeed.

He lives, when Thou hast fully wrought
The work of faith with power,
Upright in deed, and word, and thought
He lives, and sins no more.

Throughout his soul Thy glories shine,
His soul is all renewed,
And decked in righteousness divine,
And clothed, and filled with God.

In spirit joined, and one with Thee,
And purged from all his stains,
No wrinkle of infirmity,
No spot of sin remains.

He knows Thee now, as he is known,
Thy fullness he receives,
Flesh of Thy flesh, bone of Thy bone,
In Thee he ever lives.

This is the rest, the life, the peace,
Which all Thy people prove,
Love is the bond of perfectness,
And all their soul is love.

Thy people are all sanctified,
And Thou shalt say to me,
Thou art all fair, My love, My bride,
There is no spot in thee.

O joyful sound of Gospel grace!
Christ in me shall appear,
I, even I shall see His face,
I shall be holy here.

I shall from every sin be free;
(The Word of God is true)
Walk before Him, and perfect be,
And pure as God is pure.

This heart shall be His constant home;
I hear His Spirit’s cry,
Surely, He saith, I quickly come,
He saith, and cannot lie.

The God of truth Himself hath sworn:
On Him my soul relies,
My soul on wings of eagles borne,
Shall fly, and take the prize.

The glorious crown of righteousness
To me reached out I view,
Conqueror thro’ Him I soon shall seize,
And wear it as my due.

The promised land from Pisgah’s top,
I now exult to see,
My hope is full (O blessèd hope!)
Of immortality.

My fluttering spirit fatigues my breast,
And swells, and spreads abroad,
And pants for everlasting rest,
And struggles into God.

I feel, and know Him now in part,
His love my heart constrains,
Its near approach expands my heart,
And fills with pleasing pains.

He visits now the house of clay,
He shakes His future home,
O wouldst Thou, Lord, on this glad day
Into Thy temple come!

With me I know, I feel, Thou art,
But this cannot suffice,
Unless Thou plantest in my heart
A constant paradise.

My earth Thou water’st from on high.
But make it all a pool;
Spring up, O well, I ever cry,
Spring up within my soul.

Come, O my God, Thyself reveal,
Fill all this mighty void,
Thou only canst my spirit fill:
Come, O my God, my God!

Fulfill, fulfill my large desires,
Large as infinity,
Give, give me all my soul requires,
All, all that is in Thee!