"Hymn." by Jane Taylor (1783-1824)
COME, my fond fluttering heart,
Come, struggle to be free:
Thou and the world must part,
However hard it be:
My trembling spirit owns it just,
But cleaves yet closer to the dust.
Ye tempting sweets forbear–
Ye dearest idols fall:
My love ye must not share;
Jesus shall have it all:
'T is bitter pain–'t is cruel smart,
But O! thou must consent, my heart!
Ye fair enchanting throng,
Ye golden dreams, farewell!
Earth has prevailed too long,
And now I break the spell:
Ye cherished joys of early years!
Jesus forgive these parting tears.
But must I part with all,
My heart still fondly pleads:
Yes–Dagon's self must fall:–
It beats, it throbs, it bleeds:
Is there no balm in Gilead found
To soothe and heal the smarting wound?
O yes, there is a balm,
A kind physician there,
My fevered mind to calm,
To bid me not despair:
Dear Saviour! help me, set me free,
And I will all resign to thee!
O may I feel thy worth,
And let no idol dare–
No vanity of earth
With Thee, my Lord, compare:
Now bid all worldly joys depart,
And reign supremely in my heart!