Thou lovely Lamb, who on the tree

Verse 1
Thou lovely Lamb, who on the tree
Shed’st thy last drop of blood for me,
My sufferings to remove,
Low in the dust I lie, and mourn,
That I can make thee no return
For all thy waste of love.

Verse 2
’Tis all thy loving heart’s desire,
That I thy fulness should require,
And with my mis’ry part;
Thy Spirit strives to set me free,
The Father’s wisdom speaks in thee,
“My Son, give me thy heart.”

Verse 3
What is it, Lord, that keeps me back?
What is it which for thy dear sake
I would not now forego?
Pleasure, or wealth, or life, or fame?
Thou knowst, no more my wishes aim
At happiness below.

Verse 4
I dread the human face divine,
I want no other love than thine,
All-lovely as thou art:
I view thy creatures with disdain:
Tear them away, let Jesus reign
The monarch of my heart.

Verse 5
I would not, Lord, my soul deceive,
Willing I seem my all to leave,
So I might purchase thee:
What is it then that holds me still?
My own, my own, and not the will
Of him who died for me.

Verse 6
It must be so; in me alone
It stands; some cursed thing unknown
Compels my Lord to stay;
I will not suffer him to save,
Some mystery of sin I have,
That bars the Saviour’s way.

Verse 7
Shame on my soul! The dire disgrace
Covers with guilty shame my face,
And presses down my soul;
Hardly compell’d, I now confess,
I love, and cherish my disease,
And will not be made whole.

Verse 8
The Saviour God of love I clear,
Who justifies is always near,
And waits his grace to shew,
But I, the stubborn rebel I,
Far from his arms of mercy fly,
And will not Jesus know.

Verse 9
Here then beneath my curse I stoop,
I give my false pretensions up,
Death’s sentence I receive,
Guilty before my God I am,
I justify the angry Lamb,
He would have had me live.

Verse 10
I would not live, and therefore go,
Self-plung’d in gulphs of endless woe,
I go to second death;
And let me now to Tophet fall,
Unless the God, who died for all,
Still spreads his arms beneath.

Hymnal/Album: Introduced in Hymns and Sacred Poems Vol. 1, published by Charles Wesley (Bristol: Felix Farley, 1749). Published in The Poetical Works of John and Charles Wesley, Collected and Arranged by G. Osborn, Vol. 4 (London: Wesleyan-Methodist Conference Office, 1869), page 336.
Publishing: Public Domain