Wesley Corpus

With each partition-wall by men design'd To put asunder those whom God had join'd. How have we heard his generous zeal exclaim, And load with just reproach the bigot's name! The men by sameness of opinion tied, Who their own party love, and none beside; Or like the Romish sect infallible, Secure themselves, and send the rest to hell! Page 25 Impartial, as unfeign'd, his love o'erflow'd To all, but chiefly to the house of God; To those who thought his sentiments amiss O that their hearts were half as right as his, Within no narrow party-banks confin'd, But open, and inlarg'd to all mankind! Lover of all mankind, his life he gave, Christ to exalt, and precious souls to save: Nor age, nor sickness could abate his zeal, To feed the flock, and serve the Master's will. Though spent with pain, and toils that never ceas'd, He labour'd on, nor ask'd to be releas'd; Though daily waiting for the welcome word, Longing to be dissolv'd, and meet his Lord, Yet still he strangely lived, by means unknown, In deaths immortal, till his work was done, And wish'd, for Christ his latest breath to spend, That life and labour might together end. What after God he asks can God deny? Ripe for the summons, "Get thee up, and die," Page 26 Mature in grace, and ready to depart, The Spirit cries all-powerful in his heart, "O that to day might close my ministry! O that I might to day my Saviour see!" He speaks and dies! Transported to resign His spotless soul into the hands divine! He sinks into his loving Lord's embrace, And sees his dear Redeemer face to face! O what a God is ours! So true, and just To all that in his faithful mercies trust! Our kind, omnipotent, eternal friend, Who freely lov'd, and loves us to the end! He now receives his honour'd servant up, Nor lets us grieve, as heathen without hope, Like them who lose their friends at death, like them Who never knew our Lord and God supreme; With whom the spirits of the righteous rest, Till all the church are gathered to his breast. Ev'n now the cordial hope my sorrow chears, And stops the current of these needless tears: Page 27 Shall I a momentary loss deplore, Lamenting after him that weeps no more?