Wesley Corpus

Fountain of endless mercies, Giver of all in Jesus, Who from thy throne Hast sent thy Son To ransom and to bless us: Respect our humble mansion With grateful joy resounding, With hymns of praise For pard'ning grace Above our sins abounding. Acknowledging the author And God of our salvation, Our hearts we lift, And own the gift Too mighty for expression: We would be truly thankful Whom Jesus doth deliver From all our foes, And peace bestows, And life that lasts for ever. At morning, noon, and evening Our sacrifices bringing, We instantly Give praise to thee, The song triumphant singing; Page 22 With all thy ransom'd people Thro' Jesus' blood forgiven, From earth we fly, And scale the sky, And join the quire of heaven. To: "Ye servants of God." The wonders of grace Redeem'd we proclaim, The virtues confess Of Jesus's name; Our whole conversation To Jesus doth tend, To final salvation, And joy without end. We rise with the sun, To commune of him; And when we lie down, He still is our theme: Recording his praises We sink on his breast, And in his embraces With confidence rest. Of Jesus our friend We talk by the way, His goodness commend, His Spirit obey; By short aspirations, His succour implore, And kept in temptations Rejoice evermore. O Saviour, appear, To finish our sin, In love without fear Thy nature bring in: Page 23 We then in the Spirit Of purity rise, Thy joy to inherit, Thy throne in the skies. To: "Ah lovely appearance of death!" Almighty Redeemer of all, To trouble and misery nigh, Convinc'd, but unsav'd from our fall On thee we desire to rely; Thou lover and friend of mankind, With joy we have heard of thy fame, Thy mercy expecting to find For ever and ever the same. Thou didst the lost sinners receive, The weary, o'erwhelm'd, and opprest, Thou didst the afflicted relieve, And give them assurance and rest: With sins or infirmities pain'd, Thy succour who humbly implor'd, As many as sought it obtain'd, As many as touch'd were restor'd. Invited and urg'd to draw nigh, We trust in a merciful God, To thee the physician apply, And wait for a drop of thy blood: Thy blood can all sicknesses heal; Its virtue, O Jesus, impart, Our pardon infallibly seal, And heaven implant in our heart.