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Introduction
The great English hymn-writer Isaac Watts said of this poem by his contemporary, Charles Wesley, that it was worth all that he himself had ever written. In Genesis 32, Jacob, whose family and friends have gone on ahead, is forced to spend a night wrestling with an angel. He yields after receiving a leg injury, and asks his opponent’s name. ‘Wherefore is it that thou dost ask after my name?’ replies the angel — and is gone.
Wrestling Jacob
Genesis 32:24-31
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.
2 I need not tell Thee who I am,
My misery or sin declare,
Thyself hast call’d me by my name,
Look on Thy hands, and read it there;*
But who, I ask Thee, who art Thou?
Tell me Thy name, and tell me now.
3 In vain Thou strugglest 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.
4 Wilt Thou not yet to me reveal
Thy new, unutterable name?
Tell me, I still beseech Thee, tell;
To know itnow resolved I am;
Wrestling I will not let Thee go
Till I Thy name, Thy nature know.
5 ’Tis all in vain to hold Thy tongue,
Or touch the hollow of my thigh;
Though every sinew be unstrung,
Out of my arms Thou shalt not fly;
Wrestling I will not let Thee go
Till I Thy name, Thy nature know.
6 What though my shrinking 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.
7 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.
8 Yield to me now; for I am weak,
But confident in self-despair:
Speak to my heart, in blessings speak,
Be conquer’d by my instant prayer;
Speak, or Thou never hence shalt move,
And tell me if Thy name is Love.
9 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.
10 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.
11 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.
12 The Sun of Righteousness on me
Hath rose with healing in His wings;*
Wither’d my nature’s strength, from Thee
My soul its life and succour brings;
My help is all laid up above;
Thy nature, and Thy name is Love.
13 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.
14 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.
* The speaker takes the angel to be Jesus Christ, on whose hands the marks of the crucifixion may still be seen.
* A reference to 2 Corinthians 12:9. St Paul was troubled by ‘a thorn in his flesh’ (possibly an illness, but St John Chrysostom thought it was repeated abuse at the hands of persecutors) and asked God to relieve him of it; but his plea was gently refused. ‘And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.’ For another ‘thorn in the flesh’, see Androcles and the Lion.
* A reference to Malachi 4:2: ‘unto you that fear my name shall the Sun of righteousness arise with healing in his wings.’ Wesley returned to this passage in Hark the Herald Angels Sing.
* ‘Halt’ here means ‘limp, hobble’.