Poem – Hymn II: Come, Sinners, To The Gospel Feast – John Wesley

Come, sinners, to the gospel feast, 

Let every soul be Jesu’s guest; 

Ye need not one be left behind, 

For God hath bidden all mankind. 
Sent by my Lord, on you I call, 

The invitation is to ALL: 

Come, all the world; come, sinner, thou! 

All things in Christ are ready now. 
Come, all ye souls by sin opprest, 

Ye restless wanderers after rest, 

Ye poor, and maimed, and halt, and blind, 

In Christ a hearty welcome find. 
Come, and partake the gospel feast; 

Be saved from sin; in Jesus rest; 

O taste the goodness of your God, 

And eat his flesh, and drink his blood! 
Ye vagrant souls, on you I call; 

(O that my voice could reach you all!) 

Ye all may now be justified, 

Ye all may live, for Christ hath died. 
My message as from God receive, 

Ye all may come to Christ, and live; 

O let his love your hearts constrain, 

Nor suffer him to die in vain! 
His love is mighty to compel; 

His conquering love consent to feel, 

Yield to his love’s resistless power, 

And fight against your God no more. 
See him set forth before your eyes, 

That precious, bleeding sacrifice! 

His offered benefits embrace, 

And freely now be saved by grace. 
This is the time; no more delay! 

This is the acceptable day, 

Come in, this moment, at his call, 

And live for him who died for all.
by John Wesley

Poem – Hymn I: O For A Thousand Tongues To Sing – John Wesley

O for a thousand tongues to sing 

My great Redeemer’s praise, 

The glories of my God and King, 

The triumphs of his grace! 
My gracious Master and my God, 

Assist me to proclaim, 

To spread through all the earth abroad 

The honours of thy name. 
Jesus! the name that charms our fears, 

That bids our sorrows cease; 

‘Tis music in the sinner’s ears, 

‘Tis life, and health, and peace. 
He breaks the power of cancelled sin, 

He sets the prisoner free; 

His blood can make the foulest clean, 

His blood availed for me. 
He speaks, and, listening to his voice, 

New life the dead receive, 

The mournful, broken hearts rejoice, 

The humble poor believe. 
Hear him, ye deaf; his praise, ye dumb, 

Your loosened tongues employ; 

Ye blind, behold your Saviour come, 

And leap, ye lame, for joy. 
Look unto him, ye nations, own 

Your God, ye fallen race; 

Look, and be saved through faith alone, 

Be justified by grace. 
See all your sins on Jesus laid: 

The Lamb of God was slain, 

His soul was once an offering made 

For every soul of man. 
Awake from guilty nature’s sleep, 

And Christ shall give you light, 

Cast all your sins into the deep, 

And wash the Æthiop white. 
With me, your chief, ye then shall know, 

Shall feel your sins forgiven; 

Anticipate your heaven below, 

And own that love is heaven.
by John Wesley

Poem – Hymn: Thou Hidden Love Of God – John Wesley

Thou hidden love of God, whose height, 

Whose depth unfathom’d no man knows, 

I see from far thy beauteous light, 

Inly I sigh for thy repose; 

My heart is pain’d, nor can it be 

At rest, till it finds rest in thee. 
Thy secret voice invites me still, 

The sweetness of thy yoke to prove: 

And fain I would: but tho’ my will 

Seem fix’d, yet wide my passions rove; 

Yet hindrances strew all the way; 

I aim at thee, yet from thee stray. 
‘Tis mercy all, that thou hast brought 

My mind to seek her peace in thee; 

Yet while I seek, but find thee not, 

No peace my wand’ring soul shall see; 

O when shall all my wand’rings end, 

And all my steps to thee-ward tend! 
Is there a thing beneath the sun 

That strives with thee my heart to share? 

Ah! tear it thence, and reign alone, 

The Lord of ev’ry motion there; 

Then shall my heart from earth be free, 

When it hath found repose in thee. 
O hide this self from me, that I 

No more, but Christ in me may live; 

My vile affections crucify, 

Nor let one darling lust survive; 

In all things nothing may I see, 

Nothing desire or seek but thee. 
O Love, thy sov’reign aid impart, 

To save me from low-thoughted care: 

Chase this self-will thro’ all my heart, 

Thro’ all its latent mazes there: 

Make me thy duteous child, that I 

Ceaseless may Abba, Father, cry! 
Ah no! ne’er will I backward turn: 

Thine wholly, thine alone I am! 

Thrice happy he who views with scorn 

Earth’s toys, for thee his constant flame; 

O help that I may never move 

From the blest footsteps of thy love! 
Each moment draw from earth away 

My heart that lowly waits thy call: 

Speak to my inmost soul, and say, 

I am thy love, thy God, thy all! 

To feel thy power, to hear thy voice, 

To taste thy love, be all my choice.