Wesley Corpus

But wilt thou suffer me to bear A sad reverse of thee, A graceless, miserable heir Of endless misery; Expose it to the world's black wild, And sin's malignant power? And must I, Lord, bring forth a child For Satan to devour? Rather resume the blessings lent, And stop thy creature's breath, And by a temporal prevent An everlasting death: Before it draws this tainted air, My harmless infant slay, Or let the sad Benoni tear My bleeding life away. The keys of death and hell are held In thine almighty hand, And all the powers of nature yield To thy supreme command: Destroy the candidate for light, Or slay me in its stead, Childless among the living write, Or free among the dead. Page 47 Or let the sleeping babe remain In its maternal tomb, And safe from sin, and safe from pain For ever swell the womb; 'Till waken'd by the trumpet's sound We both triumphant rise, And see our life with glory crown'd, And grasp him in the skies. But if thou otherwise ordain, All-gracious as thou art, And bring me thro' the perilous pain To act a mother's part; My infant yet unborn receive, An offering to the sky, And let it for thy glory live, And for thy glory die. To thee, great God, in Jesus' name Devoted from the womb, For thine alone my offspring claim, And when thou wilt resume: My child, like Jephtha's daughter seize, A sacrifice divine: Or if a son his parents bless, The Nazarite is thine. Or in the morning of his day, Or call him back at noon, I will not murmur for his stay, Or cry, he died too soon! I freely render thee thy right, And in thy pleasure rest, For love and wisdom infinite Must always chuse the best. 12A manuscript precursor of this hymn appears in MS Richmond, 95-96. Page 48 My every creature-good remove: But let thy handmaid gain The witness of thy pardning love, And still the grace retain; Retain, by mercy reconcil'd, The sense of sin forgiven, And meet at last my happy child With all my friends in heaven. To whom should I for succour fly, While danger, pain, and death are nigh, And nature's fears return? Jesus, my only sure relief, I tell to thee my secret grief, And in thy bosom mourn.