Scripture Verse

He that raised up Christ from the dead shall also quicken your mortal bodies by His Spirit that dwelleth in you. Romans 8:11

Introduction

Words: Charles Wes­ley. See notes be­low on pub­li­ca­tion ins­tanc­es.

Music: Car­diff at­trib­ut­ed to J. F. Her­ring (🔊 pdf nwc)

Alternate Tunes:

If you know Her­ring’s full name, or where to get a good pic­ture of him (head & shoul­ders, at least 200×300 pix­els),

portrait
Charles Wesley (1707–1788)

Lyrics

This text is from Charles Wes­ley’s Hymns and Sac­red Poe­ms (Bris­tol, Eng­land: Fe­lix Far­ley, 1742), pag­es 199–200.

Come, Ho­ly Ghost, all-quick­en­ing fire,
Come, and my hal­lowed heart in­spire,
Sprinkled with the aton­ing blood:
Now to my soul Thy­self re­veal;
Thy migh­ty work­ing let me feel,
And know that I am born of God.

Thy witness to my spir­it bear,
That God, my God, in­ha­bits there;
Thou, with the Fa­ther and the Son,
Eternal Light’s co­eval beam,
Be Christ in me, and I in Him,
’Till per­fect we are made in One.

When wilt Thou my whole heart sub­due?
Come, Lord, and form my soul anew,
Emptied of pride, and self, and hell:
Less than the least of all Thy store
Of mer­cies, I my­self ab­hor:
All, all my vile­ness may feel.

Humble, and teach­able, and mild,
O may I, as a lit­tle child,
My low­ly Mas­ter’s steps pur­sue;
Be an­ger to my soul un­known;
Hate, en­vy, jea­lou­sy, be gone!
In love cre­ate Thou all things new.

Let earth no more my heart di­vide,
With Christ may I be cru­ci­fied,
To Thee with my whole soul as­pire;
Dead to the world, and all its toys,
Its idle pomp, and fad­ing joys,
Be Thou alone my one de­sire.

Be Thou my joy, be Thou my dread,
In bat­tle co­ver Thou my head,
Nor earth, nor hell so shall I fear:
So shall I turn my stea­dy face;
Want, pain de­fy, en­joy dis­grace,
Glory in dis­so­lu­tion near.

My will be swal­lowed up in Thee;
Light in Thy light still may I see,
Beholding Thee with op­en face:
Called the full pow­er of faith to prove,
Let all my hal­lowed heart be love,
And all my sin­less life be praise.

Come, Ho­ly Ghost, all-quick­en­ing fire,
Come, and my hal­lowed heart in­spire,
Sprinkled with the aton­ing blood:
Now to my soul Thy­self re­veal;
Thy migh­ty work­ing let me feel,
And know that I am born of God.

The fol­low­ing text has lit­tle in com­mon with the ver­sion above, ex­cept the op­en­ing line. It ap­peared A Col­lect­ion of Hymns, for the Use of the Peo­ple Called Me­tho­dists, by John Wes­ley (Lon­don: John Ma­son, 1779), num­ber 374.

Come, Ho­ly Ghost, all-quick­en­ing fire,
Come, and in my de­light to rest;
Drawn by the lure of strong de­sire,
O come and con­se­crate my breast!
The tem­ple of my soul pre­pare,
And fix Thy sac­red pre­sence there!

If now Thy in­flu­ence I feel,
If now in Thee be­gin to live,
Still to my heart Thy­self re­veal,
Give me Thy­self, for ev­er give:
A point my good, a drop my store,
Eager I ask, I pant for more.

Eager for Thee I ask and pant;
So strong the prin­ci­ple di­vine,
Carries me out with sweet con­straint,
Till all my hal­lowed soul is Thine:
Plunged in the God­head’s deep­est sea,
And lost in Thine im­men­si­ty.

My peace, my life, my com­fort Thou,
My trea­sure and my all Thou art!
True wit­ness of my son­ship, now
Engraving par­don on my heart,
Seal of my sin in Christ for­giv­en,
Earnest of love, and pledge of Heav’n.

Come, then, my God, mark out Thine heir;
Of Heav’n a larg­er ear­nest give!
With clear­er light Thy wit­ness bear;
More sen­si­bly with­in me live;
Let all my pow­ers Thine en­trance feel,
And deep­er stamp Thy­self the seal!