English poem
REPENTANCE. From the same
by John Wesley (1703–1791)
Lord, I confess my Sin is great, Great is my Sin! O gently treat Thy tender Flow'r, thy fading Bloom, Whose LIfe's still aiming at a Tomb.
Have Mercy, Lord! Lo I confess I feel, I mourn my Foolishness: O spare me, whom thy Hands have made, A with'ring Leaf, a fleeting Shade.
Sweeten at length this bitter Bowl Which Thou hast pour'd into my Soul! O tarry not! If still Thou stay, Here sets in Death my short-liv'd Day.
When Thou for Sin rebukest Man, His drooping Heart is fill'd with Pain; Blasted his Strength, his Beauty too Consumes away as Morning Dew.
When wilt Thou Sin and Grief destroy That all the broken Bones may joy; And at thy all-reviving Word Dead Sinners rise, and praise the Lord?