For One Convinced of Inordinate Affection

Woe is me! that wretched man
More than my God I prize!
Well I know them void and vain,
Yet pant for earthly joys:
Downward still my wishes move,
Though fairer than earth's sons Thou art:
Touch me, Jesus, with Thy love,
And vindicate my heart.

"Happiness is not in me,"
Though every creature cry,
Still the airy form I see
Where'er I turn mine eye;
After shadows still I rove,
Nor can I with my idols part:
Touch me, Jesus, &c.

Burning with unhallow'd fires,
Thou seest, my tortured breast
Pines away with low desires,
Stranger to joy and rest:
How shall I this death remove?
How tear away the' inrooted dart?
Touch me, Jesus, &c.

Poison now o'erflows my cup,
Fills me with thrilling pain,
Drinks my blood and spirits up,
And throbs in every vein;
Yet I fear Thy grace to prove,
I dread for Thee with all to part:
Touch me, Jesus, &c.

God, arise, Thou jealous God,
And all Thy foes subdue;
Claim the purchase of Thy blood,
Create my soul anew;
Let it now no longer rove,
Now let me taste how good Thou art:
Touch me, Jesus, &c.

Saviour, purify my soul,
As Thou my God art pure;
Make my wounded spirit whole,
And all my sickness cure;
From Thee never let me move,
Thou my sufficient portion art:

From all filthiness of flesh
And spirit make me clean;
Stamp Thine image, Lord, afresh,
And purge me from all sin:
Thee my God, my all I prove;
Ah! never more from me depart;
Fill, O Jesu, with Thy love
My vindicated heart.