English poem
The TEMPER. From the same
by John Wesley (1703–1791)
O Lord, how gladly would my Rhymes Engrave thy Love in Steel, If what my Soul doth feel sometimes, My Soul might ever feel!
Tho' there were forty Heav'ns or more, Sometimes I mount them all; Sometimes I hardly reach a Score, Sometimes to Hell I fall.
Rack me not to such vast Extent; These Lengths belong to Thee; The World's too little for thy Tent, A Grave too big for me.
O mete not Arms with Man, nor stretch A Worm from Heav'n to Hell! Strive not with Dust, nor let a Wretch Thy Pow'r Almighty feel.
Yet take thy Way: thy Way is best; Grant or deny me Ease: This is but tuning of my Breast, To make the Musick please.
Rise I to Heav'n, or sink to Dust, In both, thy Hands appear; Thy Pow'r and Love, my Love and Trust Make One Place Ev'ry where I