Oh That I May Never

Here Am I, Send Me; Send Me To The Ends Of The Earth; Send Me To The Rough, The Savage Lost Of The Wilderness; Send Me From All That Is Called Comfort On Earth; Send Me Even To Death Itself, If It Be But In Your Service, And To Promote Your Kingdom

In Prayer I Was Exceedingly Enlarged, And My Soul Was As Much Drawn Out As I Ever Remember It To Have Been In My Life. I Was In Such Anguish, And Pleaded With So Much Earnestness And Importunity, That When I Rose From My Knees I Felt Extremely Weak And Overcome; I Could Scarce Walk Straight; My Joints Were Loosed; The Sweat Ran Down My Face And Body; And Nature Seemed As If It Would Dissolve.

I Am An Old Sinner; And If God Had Designed Mercy For Me, He Would Have Called Me Home To Himself Before Now.

My Desires Seem Especially To Be After Weanedness From The World, Perfect Deadness To It, And That I May Be Crucified To All Its Allurements. My Soul Desires To Feel Itself More Of A Pilgrim And A Stranger Here Below, That Nothing May Divert Me From Pressing Through The Lonely Desert, Till I Arrive At My Father's House.

I Have Ever Found It, When I Have Thought The Battle Was Over And The Conquest Gained, And So Let Down My Watch, The Enemy Has Risen Up And Done Me The Greatest Injury.