Wrestling Jacob

Charles Wesley (1707–1788)

FIRST PART

COME, O thou Traveller unknown,

Whom still I hold, but cannot see;

My company before is gone,

And I am left alone with thee;

With thee all night I mean to stay,

And wrestle till the break of day.

I need not tell thee who I am;

My sin and misery declare;

Thyself hast called me by my name;

Look on thy hands, and read it there;

But who, I ask thee, who art thou?

Tell me thy name, and tell me now.

In vain thou strugglest to get free;

I never will unloose my hold:

Art thou the Man that died for me?

The secret of thy love unfold;

Wrestling, I will not let thee go

Till I thy name, thy nature know.

Wilt thou not yet to me reveal

Thy new, unutterable name?

Tell me, I still beseech thee, tell;

To know it now resolved I am;

Wrestling, I will not let thee go

Till I thy name, thy nature know.

What though my shrinking flesh complain

And murmur to contend so long?

I rise superior to my pain;

When I am weak, then am I strong!

And when my all of strength shall fail,

I shall with the God-man prevail.

SECOND PART

YIELD to me now, for I am weak,

But confident in self-despair;

Speak to my heart, in blessings speak;

Be conquered by my instant prayer;

Speak, or thou never hence shalt move,

And tell me if thy name be Love.

’T is Love! ’t is Love! Thou diedst for me;

I hear thy whisper in my heart;

The morning breaks, the shadows flee;

Pure, universal Love thou art;

To me, to all, thy bowels move;