C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Thou Hidden Love of God, Whose Height

Translation of John Wesley, from the German of Gerhard Tersteegen

THOU hidden love of God, whose height,

Whose depth unfathomed, no man knows!

I see from far thy beauteous light,

Inly I sigh for thy repose;

My heart is pained, nor can it be

At rest till it finds rest in thee.

Is there a thing beneath the sun

That strives with thee my heart to share?

Ah, tear it thence, and reign alone,

The Lord of every motion there!

Then shall my heart from earth be free,

When it hath found repose in thee.

O hide this self from me, that I

No more, but Christ in me, may live;

My vile affections crucify,

Nor let one darling lust survive!

In all things nothing may I see,

Nothing desire or seek, but thee.

O Love, thy sovereign aid impart,

To save me from low-thoughted care;

Chase this self-will through all my heart,

Through all its latent mazes there;

Make me thy duteous child, that I

Ceaseless may, “Abba, Father,” cry.

Each moment draw from earth away

My heart, that lowly waits thy call;

Speak to my inmost soul, and say,

“I am thy Love, thy God, thy All!”

To feel thy power, to hear thy voice,

To taste thy love, be all my choice.