English poem
PRAYER. From Herbert
by John Wesley (1703–1791)
How swiftly wafted in a Sigh, Thou GOD that hear'st the Pray'r, Do our Requests invade the Sky, And pierce thy bending Ear?
My Suit is made, my Pray'r is o'er, If I but lift my Eye; Thou, Omnipresent, can'st no more Not hear, than Thou canst die.
How shall we Thy great Arm revere, Which gives this All to be, Connects the Center with the Sphere, And spans Infinity!
Whate'er our ardent Souls require, Whate'er we wish is there; Thy Pow'r exceeds our Scant Desire, And chides our partial Pray'r.
O how unbounded is Thy Love, Which, when Thou could'st not die, Descending from Thy Throne Above Put on Mortality!
Thou leav'st Thy Father's blissful Face Our Guilt and Curse t'assume, To burst the Bars that stopp'd Thy Grace, And make Thy Bounty Room.
Still then may Pray'r with me remain, This my Companion be; So shall I all my Wants obtain, Obtain all Heav'n in Thee.