Wesley Corpus

Saviour, 'till thou declare thy will, Thy providential mind reveal, And charge us to submit, May we not humbly persevere In pleading for a life so dear, In weeping at thy feet? Foolish, and blind to what is best, We urge, yet check our fond request, With resignation cry, Page 107 Save him the vessel of thy grace, Save him and for thy glory raise, While at the point to die. Thou did'st not blame the father's prayer, Beseeching thee his son to spare Just gasping out his breath: Thy mercy hasten'd to his aid, Thy love the parting spirit stay'd, And rescu'd him from death. Another in distress and pain, Did he apply to thee in vain, In vain for succour groan? Thy pity felt thy creature's grief, Remov'd his helpless unbelief, And gave him back his son. Thou couldst not, Lord, thy help deny, Regardless of a mother's cry For her own child opprest: With pleasing importunity She wrestled, and obtain'd of thee Her violent request. Thy mercy ever more the same For our afflicted child we claim Whose dying weight we bear, Unanswer'd still our suit repeat, And cry for mercy at thy feet In agony of prayer. Thou dost not yet relief afford, Or speak one comfortable word In our extream distress, As seeming to condemn our fears, And frown in silence at our tears, And hide thy angry face. Page 108 Answer, thou suffering Son of man, May we not patiently complain, And feel our threatned loss, Under so huge a burthen stoop, Or deprecate the bitter cup, Or faint beneath the cross? Thy mild humanity divine Shall help us meekly to resign, If thou resume thine own: We trust in that tremendous hour, To say, thro' love's almighty power, Thy sovereign will be done. But if our cry hath reach'd thy heart, If still the Man of Griefs thou art, The friend of misery, Thou wilt restore our heart's desire, With strength to give him back entire A sacrifice to thee. Love divine, th' afflicted see, Mov'd with our infirmity, Once thyself a Man of Grief, Hasten, Lord, to our relief. Mindful of thy suffering days, Now as then replete with grace, Good Physician, bow the skies, Come before our infant dies. Present in thy balmy power, Thou canst32 suddenly restore, By a word the dying save; Speak, and snatch him from the grave.