Religion

On His Birthday

by Charles Wesley 1707–1788

From Hymns and Sacred Poems (1742) · Osborn ed., vol. 2 (1869)

Religion

Oft have I cursed my natal day,
While struggling in the legal strife,
And wish'd for wings to fly away,
And murmur'd to be held in life:
But O, my blasphemies are o'er,
I curse my day, my God, no more.

His grace, which I abused so long,
Hath this and all my sins forgiven;
I now have learnt a better song,
I cheerfully look up to heaven,
With joy upon my head return,
And bless the day that I was born.

How could I, Lord, Thy goodness grieve?
How could I do Thee such despite?
At last I thankfully receive
The gift of Thy continued light;
No longer I Thy favours spurn,
But bless the day that I was born.

Fountain of life and all my joy,
Jesu, Thy mercies I embrace;
The breath Thou givest for Thee employ,
And wait to taste Thy perfect grace;
No more forsaken and forlorn,
I bless the day that I was born.

Since first I felt by grace removed
My sin's intolerable load,
Long in the wilderness I roved,
And groan'd to live without my God;
I cannot now as hopeless mourn,
But bless the day that I was born.

The tyranny of sin is past;
And though the carnal mind remains,
My guiltless soul on Thee is cast,
I neither hug, nor bite my chains;
Prisoner of hope, to Thee I turn,
And bless the day that I was born.

Preserved through faith by power Divine.
A miracle of grace I stand,
I prove the strength of Jesus mine:
Jesus, upheld by Thy right hand,
Though in my flesh I feel the thorn,
I bless the day that I was born.

Weary of life through inbred sin
I was, but now defy its power;
When as a flood the foe comes in,
My soul is more than conqueror,
I tread him down with holy scorn,
And bless the day that I was born.

Born from above, I soon shall praise
Thy goodness with a thankful tongue,
Record the victory of Thy grace,
And teach a listening world the song,
While many, whom to Thee I turn,
Shall bless the day that I was born.

Come, Lord, and make me pure within,
O let me now be born of God,
Live to declare I cannot sin!
Or if I seal the truth with blood,
My soul, from out the body torn,
Shall bless the day that I was born.

✦ ✦ ✦

Attributed to Charles Wesley; Osborn's edition does not distinguish the brothers

MLA

Wesley, Charles. “On His Birthday.” Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/wesley_c/238/.

Chicago

Wesley, Charles. “On His Birthday.” Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/wesley_c/238/.

Read this poem with the Codex →

More by Charles Wesley