Last updated: 16 January 2010. Thanksgiving Hymns (1746)1 Baker list, 125 Editorial Introduction: The Jacobite uprising in 1745, led by Charles Edward Stuart, had been greeted by Charles Wesley with a series of hymns beseeching God's protection for the English king and nation see "Hymns for 1745." When the English troops led by William, Duke of Cumberland and the 25 yearold son of George II, defeated the Jacobite forces in April 1746 at the battle of Culloden, it is small surprise that Charles would again respond with appropriate verse. Specifically, in preparation for the official public commemoration of this victory, Charles published (anonymously) in early October 1746 in London and Bristol his Hymns for the Public Thanksgiving Day, Oct. 9, 1746, a booklet containing seven new hymns specific to the occasion. The hymns exude the English sense of being defenders of the cause of Protestantism against the treachery of Catholic Spain and France (see esp. Hymn 3, st. 2). This collection was reprinted only once, in 1769. It is unlikely that this was simply because the original copies had been exhausted. It appears timed to bolster English confidence in the face of the growing rebellion of the American colonists (and their French supporters). Editions: Charles Wesley. Hymns for the Public Thanksgiving Day, Oct. 9, 1746. London: Strahan, 1746. Bristol: Farley, 1746. Bristol: Pine, 1769. Table of Contents Hymn I Hymn II Hymn III Hymn IV Hymn V Hymn VI Hymn VII Page 3 October 9, 1746. Hymn I. Britons, rejoice, the Lord is King, The Lord of hosts and nations sing, Whose arm hath now your foes o'erthrown, Ascribe the praise to God alone, The giver of success proclaim, And shout your thanks in Jesus' name. 'Twas not a feeble arm of ours Which chac'd the fierce contending powers, Jehovah turn'd the scale of fight, Jehovah quell'd their boasted might, And knapp'd their spears, and broke their swords, And shew'd the battle is the Lord's. He beckon'd to the savage-band, And bade them sweep thro' half the land: The savage-band their terror spread, With Rome and Satan at their head, But stopt by his almighty breath, Rush'd back into the arms of death. Page 4

Thou Lord, alone, hast laid them low, In pieces dash'd th' invading foe, Thy breath which did their fury raise Hath quench'd, at once, the sudden blaze, Destroy'd the weapons of thine ire, And cast the rods into the fire. O that we all might see the hand Which still protects a guilty land; Glory and strength ascribe to thee Who giv'st to kings the victory; And yield, while yet thy Spirit strives, And thank thee with our hearts and lives. O that we might to God rejoice, And tremble at thy mercy's voice: Nor fondly dream the danger past, While yet our own rebellions last! O that our wars with heav'n might cease, And all receive the Prince of Peace! Or if, before the scourge return, The thankless croud disdains to mourn, Yet, Lord, with reverential joy, We vow for thee our all t' employ, And bless thee for the kind reprieve, And to our Saviour's glory live! Long as thou lengthnest out our days, We live to testify thy grace, Secure beneath thy mercy's wings, We triumph in the King of kings, The giver of success proclaim, And shout our thanks in Jesus' name. Hymn II. Thanks be to God, the God of power, Who shelter'd us in danger's hour, The God of truth, who heard the prayer, Let all his faithfulness declare, Who sent us succours from above, Let all adore the God of love. Page 5 God sitting on his holy seat Compels the heathen to submit, The grashoppers of earth he sees, And mocks their prosp'rous wickedness, Frustrates their counsels with a frown, And turns their Babels upside down. His eye observ'd the dark design, To blast our rightful monarch's line, The scheme in Satan's conclave laid, Improv'd by Rome's unerring head, To gaul us with their yoke abhor'd, And plant their faith with fire and sword. He saw the serpent's egg break forth, The cloud arising in the north, He let the slighted mischief spread, And hang in thunder o'er our head; And while we scorn'd our abject foes, The drop into a torrent rose. Lur'd by the grateful scent of blood, The vulturs hasten'd to their food, The aliens urg'd their rapid way, Resolv'd to die, or win the day; Madly resolv'd their doom to brave, And gain a kingdom or a grave.

Swell'd to an host, the daring few Thro' ours as waving lightning flew, Rush'd on with unresisted power, And scal'd the wall, and storm'd the tower, While God seem'd pleas'd their cause to bless, And curs'd them with a short success. Drunk with the bold aspiring hope, Behold them march triumphant up, Of conquest fatally secure, They vow to make our ruin sure, And shout around our threatened towers, "The day, the crown, and all is ours!" Who was it then dispers'd the snare, And choak'd those ravening dogs of war? Page 6 Jehovah curb'd their furious speed, Jehovah sent the panick dread, And damp'd and fill'd them with dismay, And scar'd the vulturs from their prey. His hidden power controll'd the foe, And said, "No farther shalt thou go." His bridle in their mouths they found, And fled subdu'd without a wound, (As stubble by the whirlwind driven) They fled before the frown of heaven. Thanks be to God, the God of power, Who shelter'd us in danger's hour, The God of truth, who heard the prayer, Let all his faithfulness declare, Who sent deliverance from above, Let all adore the God of love! Hymn III. Still let us in our rising song, Pursue the wild rebellious throng, With tenfold rage and fury fir'd, With all the zeal of hell inspir'd, The sons of Rome and Satan see, And trace them to their destiny. Bold they return to sure success, Whom all the saints conspire to bless, Supported by their friends beneath, In covenant with hell and death; And Spanish gold, and Gallic pride, And Holy Church is on their side. See how they fly to set us free From all our northern heresy, Our feuds and grievances to heal, And purge the land with northern steel, Bring back to their infernal god, And re-baptize us in our blood. Page 7 2William, Duke of Cumberland, leader of the English troops. Bent to devour the total prey, They leave our troops an open way, An uncontested passage yield, And draw their conquerors to the field, And sworn our ruin to secure, They make their own destruction sure. Lo! The audacious hopes of Rome, Rush headlong to their instant doom, Slaughter and threats the aliens breathe, Nor see the Lord of life and death, Till struck with lightning from his eye, They fear, they turn, they fall, they die!

How are the mighty fallen! Dead! Who fill'd our conscious land with dread, Perish'd the keenest tools of war, The crafty caught in their own snare, And Antichrist robb'd of his plea, His blind infallibility! 'Twas not the number of our hosts, That baffled all their furious boasts, Our wisdom did not cast them down, Our courage, Lord, was not our own; From thee the sacred ardor came, And William2 breath'd an heavenly flame! O let him thankfully submit To lay his lawrels at thy feet, By FAITH a Christian hero stand, And hang on thine all-ruling hand, Supporter of his father's throne, Upheld himself by thee alone! Give him, and us, and all to see, Our strength and life secur'd in thee, By whom thy dread vicegerents reign, And righteous kings their sway maintain, Assur'd, who on thy love depend, Their God and Maker is their friend. O that we all may seek and find, The Saviour, friend of human-kind, Page 8 People and prince be still imploy'd T' insure the lasting peace of God, And strive, till all obtain above Eternal rest in Jesus' love! Hymn IV. Join all who know the name That sure deliverance brings, The conquering God proclaim, The guardian King of kings; Sav'd from the peril of the sword, Rejoice, and glory in the Lord. He on our Israel's side, In glorious power hath stood, And quell'd their cruel pride, Who thirsted for our blood: Sav'd from the peril of the sword, Rejoice, and glory in the Lord. Forth with our armies went The God of victory, And bless'd the instrument That set our nation free: Sav'd from the peril of the sword, Rejoice, and glory in the Lord. The means his wisdom chose We honour, and look thro' To him, who all our foes, When flush'd with conquest slew: Sav'd from the peril of the sword, Rejoice, and glory in the Lord. Wisdom and strength belongs To Jesu's only name, He claims our thankful songs, From whom our safety came: Sav'd from the peril of the sword, Rejoice, and glory in the Lord. Page 9 To him let us restore The lives he doth redeem, And praise him evermore, And live and die to him. Sav'd from the peril of the sword, Rejoice, and glory in the Lord. Hymn V.

What recompence, or meet reward Shall sinners render to the Lord For all his saving grace? We only can with thanks receive, The utmost grace he deigns to give, And sing the giver's praise. Sav'd from the Romish fowler's snare, Our Saviour's glory to declare We joyfully agree: Jesus, we now thy praise proclaim, And rescued by thy conqu'ring name, Give back our lives to thee. Thou hast thy praying remnant heard, Thou hast our sinful Sodom spar'd For the ten righteous' sake: Thou between God and us hast stood, And pleaded thine atoning blood, And turn'd the waster back. Pluck'd as a brand out of the fire, Let us to greater things aspire, And mightier wonders see, Deliverance from death, hell and sin, From all these rebel foes within, And more than victory. Jesus, convert and stir us up With transport to receive the cup Of full salvation here: And let us then by love restor'd, Behold thee, our triumphant Lord, With all thy saints appear! Page 10 3A manuscript version of this hymn appears in MS Richmond Tracts, 1. Hymn VI.3 God of love, who hear'st the prayer Offer'd for a guilty land, Thou dost yet thy wrath forbear, Hold a-while thy lifted hand; Thou with bowels of compassion Giv'st us still a longer space: Turn us then, the sinful nation, Conquer by thy pard'ning grace. Thee in dreadful indignation Marching thro' the land we saw, Stopt by Israel's supplication, Lo! Thou dost the scourge withdraw: O that all might hear and tremble At the long-suspended rod, All in Jesu's name assemble, All confess the Son of God! Grant us in this awful crisis, Hearts thy warning to receive, Hearts to cast away our vices, Hearts to sorrow and believe: Humbly at thy footstool mourning, Let us groan thy face to see, Let us all at last returning, Find our help and rest in thee. Come, the contrite heart's desire, Friend of helpless sinners, come! Hear and answer us by fire, All our sins forgive consume, Humble us, and then deliver Whom thou dost a-while reprove, Save us then, and save for ever, God of everlasting love! Page 11 Hymn VII. While void of care, the chearful crowd In shouts and acclamations loud The festal time employ; Let us, who still the rod revere, With pitying grief and humble fear Correct the lighter joy.

Not but thou read'st our thankful heart, Thankful that thou hast took our part, And sav'd the sinful land; Thou hast preserv'd the best of kings, And shadow'd with thy mercy's wings The man of thy right-hand. Yet must we, Lord, with shame confess, Nor for our nation's righteousness, Hast thou deliverance sent, But grantest us a longer space, To try, if those who scorn'd thy grace, Will now at last repent. Thou hast not dropp'd thy quarrel, Lord, Thou hast not from the threatning sword Revok'd its charge to kill: Thine anger is not turn'd away, Thy justice still demands its prey, Thine hand is stretch'd out still. Conqu'rors of our intestine foes, We spurn the authors of our woes; But can our tears be dry While just necessity commands, And slaughter'd by fraternal hands, Whole troops of Britons die! Thousands to their account are fled With all their sins upon their head, (Sins against man and God:) Their lives are lost to ransom ours: And still the sword abroad devours, And thirsts for nobler blood. Page 12 4Ori., "E're"; but clearly used in sense of "before." 5Ori., "E're"; but clearly used in sense of "before." The man who sits on the red horse, Holds on his bloody rapid course, And peace from earth destroys; And O! What crouds of Britain's sons, Have own'd his power in dying groans, And answer'd to his voice! O might we mercy seek and find, Ere4 yet he calls the man behind, Who rides the sable steed; Ere5 yet the meagre form appears, With a long train of dearthy years, And famine lifts his head. Before with fruitless horror we The man on the pale courser see, And feel his blasting breath, Jesus, regard the nation's cry, Reverse our doom, nor let us die The pestilential death. O might we all to thee submit And fall, and kiss thy bleeding feet, And own thee for our King, Bright in thy glorious image rise, And rapt at last above the skies, Thine endless praises sing.