Charlotte Elliott

Charlotte Elliott Poems

Jesus, my Savior, look on me,
For I am weary and oppressed;
I come to cast myself on Thee:
Thou art my Rest.
...

Just as I am, without one plea,
But that Thy blood was shed for me,
And that Thou bidst me come to Thee,
...

Christian, seek not yet repose,
Cast thy dreams of ease away;
Thou art in the midst of foes:
...

O Holy Saviour, Friend unseen,
Since on Thine arm Thou bid'st us lean,
Help us throughout life's changing scene
By faith to cling to Thee.
...

My God and Father! while I stray
Far from my home in life is rough way,
Oh! teach me from my heart to say,
Thy will be done
...

Charlotte Elliott Biography

Charlotte Elliott (March 18, 1789 – September 22, 1871) was an English poet and hymn writer. Charlotte was the daughter of Charles Elliott, a silk merchant and his wife, Eling Venn who married at Yelling on 20 December 1785. Eling Venn was the daughter of Rev. Henry Venn of the Clapham Sect and Eling Bishop and her brother was John Venn. Charlotte's siblings were Henry Venn Elliott and Edward Bishop Elliott, who were associated with the curacies of St Mary the Virgin Church and St Mark's Church respectively. Henry Venn Elliott was also the founder of St Mary's Hall in Brighton. Charlotte spent the first 32 years of her life in Clapham. She was an invalid and often a great sufferer. In 1823, she moved to Brighton where she later died. She was a member of the Church of England. She is buried, along with her brothers, in the churchyard at St Andrew's Church, Hove.)

The Best Poem Of Charlotte Elliott

Jesus, My Savior, Look On Me,

Jesus, my Savior, look on me,
For I am weary and oppressed;
I come to cast myself on Thee:
Thou art my Rest.

Look down on me, for I am weak;
I feel the toilsome journey’s length;
Thine aid omnipotent I seek:
Thou art my Strength.

I am bewildered on my way,
Dark and tempestuous is the night;
O send Thou forth some cheering ray:
Thou art my Light.

I hear the storms around me rise;
But when I dread th’impending shock,
My spirit to the Refuge flies:
Thou art my Rock.

Standing alone on Jordan’s brink,
In that tremendous latest strife,
Thou will not suffer me to sink:
Thou art my Life.

Thou wilt my every want supply,
E’en to the end, whate’er befall;
Through life, in death, eternally,
Thou art my All.

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