Divine Breathings
Augustus Toplady, 1837
I groan from sin to be set free,
From self to be released;
Oh, take me, take me unto Thee,
My everlasting rest!
Come, O my Savior, come away,
Into my soul descend;
No longer from Thy creature stay,
My author, and my end!
The bliss Thou hast for me prepared,
No longer be delayed;
Come, my exceeding great reward,
For whom I first was made.
Thou all our works in us hast wrought,
Our good is all divine;
The praise of every virtuous thought,
And righteous work is Thine.
'Tis not of him that wills or runs,
That labors or desires;
In answer to my Savior's groans,
Thy love my breast inspires.
The meritorious cause I see,
That precious blood divine;
And I, since Jesus died for me,
Shall live forever Thine.
