We have left all, and have followed Thee.@Mark 10:28
portrait
John B. Dykes (1823-1876)

From Hymns for Times of Trouble and Persecution, by John and Charles Wesley, second edition, enlarged (London: Strahan, 1744), pages 41-42, alt. This source does not give the author’s name, but it seems likely the hymn is by Charles Wesley.

Olivet (Dykes) John B. Dykes, 1870 (🔊 pdf nwc).

portrait
Charles Wesley (1707-1788)

Lord, we have all forsook
Thy dying love to know,
To bear Thy light and easy yoke,
And in Thy footsteps go;
Our pleasure, goods, and fame:
We yield what we have stored,
In pain, and poverty, and shame,
Partakers with our Lord.

Armed with Thy strength alone,
We still our all resign;
The lives which once we called our own,
Are not our own, but Thine:
Ready we always stand
In Thine almighty power,
To yield them up at Thy command,
And meet the fiery hour.

Where is the promise then,
The bliss Thou hast prepared
For us before the sons of men,
Where is our great reward?
The hundredfold increase
Of goods, and lands, and friends,
The sweet unutterable peace,
The joy that never ends!

Surely we are possessed
Of Thee our recompense,
Ecstasy fills our panting breast,
And pains our aching sense:
What hath the world like this!
The joy which now we know—
’Tis more than joy, or life, or bliss,
’Tis Heaven begun below.

Yet O! we look for more
And mightier joys above,
The fullness of Thy heavenly store,
Of Thine eternal love:
Glory shall end the strife,
And in these bodies shine;
Jesu, our everlasting life,
Our flesh shall be like Thine.

Changed by His mighty love,
We shall be as our Lord,
And sit upon our thrones above,
And bless His just award:
While trembling at the bar,
Devils and tyrants stand,
We shall with Him their doom declare,
And shout at His right hand.

Then every saint of His
Shall lean upon His breast;
The wicked there from troubling cease,
And there the weary rest:
Our sufferings all are o’er,
Our tears are wiped away,
We only love, rejoice, adore,
Through one eternal day.

The rivers of delight
That there our souls embrace,
The glorious beatific sight
That veils the angel’s face,
The joys ineffable
That from Thy presence flow,
The fullness here we cannot tell,
But, Lord, we die to know.