Olney Hymns

When first my soul enlisted My Saviour’s foes to fight, Mistaken friends insisted I was not arm’d aright: So Saul advised David He certainly would fail, Nor could his life be saved Without a coat of mail.

II

But David, though he yielded To put the armour on, Soon found he could not wield it, And ventured forth with none. With only sling and pebble He fought the fight of faith: The weapons seem’d but feeble, Yet proved Goliath’s death.

III

Had I by him been guided, And quickly thrown away The armour men provided, I might have gain’d the day: But arm’d as they advised me, My expectations fail’d; My enemy surprised me, And had almost prevail’d.

IV

Furnish’d with books and notions, And arguments and pride, I practised all my motions, And Satan’s power defied: But soon perceived with trouble That these would do no good; Iron to him is stubble, And brass like rotton wood.

Legion was my name by nature, Satan raged within my breast, Never misery was greater, Never sinner more possess’d: Mischievous to all around me, To myself the greatest foe; Thus I was when Jesus found me, Fill’d with madness, sin, and woe.

II

Yet in this forlorn condition, When he came to see me free, I replied to my Physician, “What have I to do with thee?” But he would not be prevented, Rescued me against my will: Had he stayed till I consented I had been a captive still.

III

“Satan, though thou fain wouldst have it, Know this soul is none of thine; I have shed my blood to save it, Now I challenge it

Lord, thou hast won⁠—at length I yield⁠— My heart, by mighty grace compell’d, Surrenders all to thee; Against thy terrors long I strove, But who can stand against thy love? Love conquers even me.

II

All that a wretch could do I tried⁠— Thy patience scorn’d, thy power defied, And trampled on thy laws: Scarcely thy martyrs at the stake Could stand more steadfast for thy sake Than I in Satan’s cause.

III

But since thou hast thy love reveal’d, And shown my soul a pardon seal’d, I can resist no more: Couldst thou for such a sinner bleed? Canst thou for such a rebel plead? I wonder and adore!

IV

If thou hadst bid thy thunders roll, And lightnings flash, to blast my soul, I still had stubborn been; But mercy has my heart subdued⁠— A bleeding Saviour I have view’d, And now I hate my sin.

Strange and mysterious is my life, What opposites I feel within! A stable peace, a constant strife; The rule of grace, the power of sin: Too often I am captive led, Yet daily triumph in my Head.

II

I prize the privilege of prayer, But oh! what backwardness to pray! Though on the Lord I cast my care, I feel its burden every day; I seek his will in all I do, Yet find my own is working too.

III

I call the promises my own, And prize them more than mines of gold; Yet though their sweetness I have known, They leave me unimpress’d and cold: One hour upon the truth I feed, The next I know not what to read.

IV

I love the holy day of rest, When Jesus meets his gather’d saints; Sweet day, of all the week the best! For its return my spirit pants: Yet often through my unbelief, It proves a day of guilt and grief.