JESUS, LOVER OF MY SOUL

Jesus lover of my soul,

Let me to Thy bosom fly, While the nearer waters roll, While the tempest still is high! Hide me, O my Saviour, hide, Till the storm of life is past; Safe into the haven guide,

Oh receive my soul at last!

Other refuge have I none,

Hangs my helpless soul on Thee;
Leave, ah! leave me not alone,
Still support and comfort me!
All my trust on Thee is stayed,
All my help from Thee I bring;
Cover my defenceless head

With the shadow of Thy wing.

Wilt thou not regard my call?
Wilt thou not accept my prayer?
Lo! I sink, I faint, I fall,

Lo! on Thee I cast my care;
Reach me out Thy gracious hand,
While I of Thy strength receive!
Hoping against hope I stand,
Dying, and behold I live!

Plenteous grace with Thee is found,
Grace to cover all my sin;
Let the healing streams abound,
Make and keep me pure within: -
Thou of life the Fountain art,

Freely let me take of Thee;

Spring Thou up within my heart,
Rise to all eternity!

Charles Wesley

April the Twenty-third

William Shakespeare, Died, 1616
William Wordsworth, Died 1850

AN EPITAPH ON THE ADMIRABLE DRA. MATIC POET, W. SHAKESPEARE

What needs my Shakespeare for his honoured bones, The labour of an age in pilèd stones?

Or that his hallowed relics should be hid

Under a star-ypointing pyramid ?

Dear son of memory, great heir of fame,

What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name?
Thou in our wonder and astonishment

Hast built thyself a livelong monument.

For whilst to the shame of slow-endeavouring art
Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart
Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued book
Those Delphic lines with deep impression took,
Then thou our fancy of itself bereaving,

Dost make us marble with too much conceiving;
And so sepulchred in such pomp dost lie,
That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.

John Milton

John Milton

1608-1674