Words: , Hymns and Sac­red Po­ems, 1739.

Music: An­gels’ Song, (1583-1625). Al­ter­nate tune:

  • St. Alk­mund, Ea­sy Mu­sic for Church Choirs, 1853

George Eliot makes Di­nah Mor­ris sing this hymn as she sweeps and dusts the room in which Adam Bede had been writ­ing the night be­fore. ‘She opened the win­dow and let in the fresh morn­ing air, and the smell of the sweet­bri­ar, and the bright low-slant­ing rays of the ear­ly sun, which made a glory about her pale face and pale au­burn hair as she held the long brush, and swept, sing­ing to her­self in a ve­ry low tone—like a sweet sum­mer mur­mur that you have to list­en for ve­ry close­ly—one of Charles Wes­ley’s hymns, “Eternal Beam of light di­vine.”’

Eternal Beam of light divine,
Fountain of unexhausted love,
In Whom the Father’s glories shine
Through earth beneath, and Heaven above;

Jesu, the weary wanderer’s rest,
Give me Thy easy yoke to bear,
With steadfast patience arm my breast,
With spotless love, and lowly fear.

Thankful I take the cup from Thee,
Prepared and mingled by Thy skill,
Though bitter to the taste it be,
Powerful the wounded soul to heal.

Be Thou, O Rock of ages, nigh!
So shall each murmuring thought be gone,
And grief, and fear, and care, shall fly,
As clouds before the mid-day sun.

Speak to my warring passions, “Peace!”
Say to my trembling heart, “Be still!”
Thy power my strength and fortress is,
For all things serve Thy sovereign will.

O death! where is thy sting? Where now
Thy boasted victory, O grave?
Who shall contend with God? or who
Can hurt whom God delights to save?