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Benjamin Milgrove
(1731 - 1810)
O dearest Lord, take Thou my heart
(A.T.B.Kbd.)
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O dearest Lord, take Thou my heart
(A.T.B.Kbd.)
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Milgrove was Precentor of the Countess of Huntingdon's Chapel in Bath (see illustration). This setting comes from his first (of three) collections of "hymns as they are sung at the Right Honourable the Countess of Huntingdon's chappel in Bath". The general congregation (sometimes divided into men and women) should sing the Air, accompanying harmonies to be taken by the choir.
Lyrics: Anon
O dearest Lord, take Thou my heart;
Where can such sweetness be
As I have tasted in thy love,
As I have found in Thee?
If zeal, with knowledge in the heart,
Thy loving grace does give,
Safe in the bush unhurt, the whole
Will unconsumed live.
If love, that mildest flame, can rest
In hearts so cold as mine,
Come, gentle Saviour, to my breast,
And all its love be Thine.
The world does exercise its art
But tempts my heart in vain:
I have conveyed away that heart,
Ne'er to return again.
O 'tis in vain to seek for bliss,
For bliss can ne'er be found
'Til we arrive where Jesus is,
And tread on grace's ground.
O 'tis in vain to seek for bliss.
For bliss can ne'er be found
'Til we arrive where Jesus is,
And tread on grace's ground.
'Tis heaven on earth to taste his love,
To feel his quickening grace:
And all the heaven I hope above
Is but to see his face.
Continue still thy love, dear Lord,
Fast bind me to thy wounds:
There let me dwell, where all thy love
The raptured soul surrounds.
O dearest Lord, take Thou my heart;
Where can such sweetness be
As I have tasted in thy love,
As I have found in Thee?
If zeal, with knowledge in the heart,
Thy loving grace does give,
Safe in the bush unhurt, the whole
Will unconsumed live.
If love, that mildest flame, can rest
In hearts so cold as mine,
Come, gentle Saviour, to my breast,
And all its love be Thine.
The world does exercise its art
But tempts my heart in vain:
I have conveyed away that heart,
Ne'er to return again.
O 'tis in vain to seek for bliss,
For bliss can ne'er be found
'Til we arrive where Jesus is,
And tread on grace's ground.
O 'tis in vain to seek for bliss.
For bliss can ne'er be found
'Til we arrive where Jesus is,
And tread on grace's ground.
'Tis heaven on earth to taste his love,
To feel his quickening grace:
And all the heaven I hope above
Is but to see his face.
Continue still thy love, dear Lord,
Fast bind me to thy wounds:
There let me dwell, where all thy love
The raptured soul surrounds.