Scripture Verse

Michael and his angels fought against the dragon, and the dragon and his angels fought back. Revelation 12:7

Introduction

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Charles Wesley (1707–1788)

Words: Charles Wes­ley, Hymns and Sac­red Po­ems (Lon­don: Stra­han, 1739), pag­es 101–03.

Music: St. Pe­ters­burg, at­trib­ut­ed to Dmi­tri S. Bort­ni­an­sky, 1825 (🔊 pdf nwc).

Alternate Tune:

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Dmitri S. Bortniansky (1752–1825)

Origin of the Hymn

What the au­thor of this hymn has wri­tten con­cern­ing it is so full of in­ter­est, we can­not re­frain from quot­ing it. Af­ter the spi­rit­ual guida­nce which the broth­ers Wes­ley had re­ceived from Pe­ter Boh­ler, they were sep­a­rat­ed, and Charles We­sley went to re­side with a poor bra­zier named Tho­mas Bray, in Lit­tle Bri­tain, who knew noth­ing but Christ, who had to sup­ply Boh­ler’s place in ex­plain­ing the way of sal­va­tion by faith.

On 21st May, 1738, Charles Wes­ley was en­a­bled to say, I be­lieve, I be­lieve! What fol­lows is from his Jour­nal, un­der the date of 23rd May.

At nine I be­gan a hymn on my con­ver­sion, but was per­suad­ed to break off for fear of pride. Mr. Bray com­ing, en­cour­aged me to pro­ceed in spite of Sa­tan. I prayed Christ to stand by me and fin­ished the hymn. Up­on my af­ter­wards show­ing it to Mr. Bray, the de­vil threw in a fiery dart, sug­gest­ing that it was wrong, and I had di­spleased God. My heart sank with­in me; when, cast­ing my eyes up­on a Pray­er-book, I met an an­swer for him: Why boast­est thou thy­self, thou ty­rant, that thou must do mis­chief?

Up­on this I clear­ly dis­cerned that it was a de­vice of the en­e­my to keep back glo­ry from God. And it is not unu­su­al with him to preach hu­mil­i­ty, when speak­ing will en­dan­ger his king­dom, or do hon­our to Christ. Least of all would he have us tell what things God has done for our souls; so ten­der­ly does he guard us from pride. But God has showed me He can de­fend me from it while speak­ing for Him.

There is, says the Rev. John Kirk, a re­mark­able co­in­ci­dence be­tween the spi­rit and lang­uage of the Jour­nal and that of the hymn. As soon as he be­gins to ex­press his joy he is tempt­ed to stay his pen. He re­solves to per­form his vows un­to the Lord, of not hid­ing His right­eous­ness with­in his heart. This har­mo­nis­es ex­act­ly with the third and fourth vers­es, prob­ab­ly com­posed af­ter the temp­ta­tion to de­sist. He asks, And shall I slight my Fa­ther’s love? &c.

Two days af­ter­wards, John Wes­ley al­so was able to be­lieve to the sal­va­tion of his soul. Hap­py in the par­don­ing love of God, John was ac­com­pan­ied by a num­ber of his friends, short­ly be­fore ten at night, to Mr. Bray’s house in Lit­tle Bri­tain, where Charles was con­fined by ill­ness. The two broth­ers and their com­pan­ions were ov­er­joyed, and Charles re­cords, We sang the hymn with great joy, and part­ed with pray­er.

Stevenson, pp. 40–41

Lyrics

Where shall my wondering soul be­gin?
How shall I all to Hea­ven as­pire?
A slave redeemed from death and sin,
A brand plucked from eter­nal fire,
How shall I equal tri­umphs raise,
Or sing my great De­liv­er­er’s praise?

O how shall I the good­ness tell,
Father, which Thou to me hast showed?
That I, a child of wrath and hell,
I should be called a child of God,
Should know, should feel my sins for­giv­en,
Blessed with this an­te­past of Hea­ven!

And shall I slight my Fa­ther’s love?
Or base­ly fear His gifts to own?
Unmindful of His fa­vors prove?
Shall I, the hal­lowed cross to shun,
Refuse His right­eous­ness to im­part,
By hid­ing it with­in my heart?

No—though the an­cient dra­gon rage,
And call forth all his hosts to war,
Though earth’s self-right­eous sons en­gage
Them and their god alike I dare:
Jesus the sin­ner’s friend pro­claim,
Jesus, to sin­ners still the same.

Outcasts of men, to you I call,
Harlots, and pub­li­cans, and thieves!
He spreads His arms t’em­brace you all;
Sinners alone His grace re­ceives;
No need of Him the right­eous have;
He came the lost to seek and save.

Come all ye Mag­da­lens in lust,
Ye ruf­fi­ans fell in mur­ders old;
Repent, and live: des­pair and trust!
Jesus for you to death was sold;
Though hell pro­test, and earth re­pine,
He died for crimes like yours—and mine.

Come, O my guil­ty breth­ren, come,
Groaning be­neath your load of sin!
His bleed­ing heart shall make you room,
His op­en side shall take you in.
He calls you now, in­vites you home—
Come, O my guil­ty breth­ren, come!

For you the pur­ple cur­rent flowed
In par­dons from His wound­ed side,
Languished for you th’eter­nal God,
For you the Prince of Glo­ry died:
Believe, and all your sin’s for­giv­en;
Only be­lieve, and yours is Hea­ven!