The spirit moved upon the waters of feeling, and the new undulation broke on the shores of thought in an outburst of new song.

For while John Wesley roused the hearts of the people to sing, his brother Charles put songs in their mouths.
I do not say that many of these songs possess much literary merit, but many of them are real lyrics: they have that essential element, song, in them.

The following, however, is a very fine poem.

That certain expressions in it may not seem offensive, it is necessary to keep the allegory of Jacob and the Angel in full view--even better in view, perhaps, than the writer does himself.
WRESTLING JACOB.
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 misery or sin declare; Thyself hast called me by my name: Look on my hands, and read it there! But who, I ask thee, who art thou?
Tell me thy name, and tell me now.
In vain thou struggles! 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.
* * * * * What though my sinking flesh complain, And murmur to contend so long! I rise superior to my pain: When I am weak, then I am strong; And when my all of strength shall fail, I shall with the God-man prevail.
My strength is gone; my nature dies; I sink beneath thy weighty hand: Faint to revive, and fall to rise; I fall, and yet by faith I stand-- I stand, and will not let thee go Till I thy name, thy nature know.
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[161] prayer.
Speak, or thou never hence shalt move, And tell me if thy name is Love.
'Tis Love! 'tis 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: Thy nature and thy name is Love! My prayer hath power with God; the grace Unspeakable I now receive; Through faith I see thee face to face-- I see thee face to face, and live: In vain I have not wept and strove; Thy nature and thy name is Love.
I know thee, Saviour--who thou art-- Jesus, the feeble sinner's friend! Nor wilt thou with the night depart, But stay and love me to the end! Thy mercies never shall remove: Thy nature and thy name is Love! * * * * * Contented now, upon my thigh I halt till life's short journey end; All helplessness, all weakness, I On thee alone for strength depend; Nor have I power from thee to move: Thy nature and thy name is Love.
Lame as I am, I take the prey; Hell, earth, and sin, with ease o'ercome; I leap for joy, pursue my way, And as a bounding hart fly home; Through all eternity to prove Thy nature and thy name is Love.
It seems to me that the art with which his very difficult end in the management of the allegory is reached, is admirable.

I have omitted three stanzas.
I cannot give much from William Cowper.