John & Charles Wesley · 186 of 258

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Jesus, in whom the weary find Their late and permanent repose; Physician of the sin-sick mind, Relieve my wants, assuage my woes; And let my soul on Thee be cast, Till life’s fierce tyranny be past.

Loosed from my God, and far removed, Long have I wander’d to and fro, O’er earth in endless circles roved, Nor found whereon to rest below; Back to my God at last I fly, For, O! the waters still are high.

Selfish pursuits, and nature’s maze, The things of earth, for Thee I leave; Put forth Thy hand, Thy hand of grace, Into the ark of love receive; Take this poor fluttering soul to rest, And lodge it, Saviour, in Thy breast.

Fill with inviolable peace, ’Stablish, and keep my settled heart; In Thee may all my wanderings cease, From Thee no more may I depart, Thy utmost goodness call’d to prove, Loved with an everlasting love.