Wesley Corpus

To mourn and to suffer is mine, While bound in a prison I breathe, And still for deliverance pine, And press to the issues of death: What now with my tears I bedew, O might I this moment become, My spirit created anew, My flesh be consign'd to the tomb! Page 59 74First appeared in Funeral Hymns (1746), 8-9 (6). 75Funeral Hymns (1746) ori., "In Jesus his love." Hymn XXIII. On the Death of a Believer.74 'Tis finish'd, 'tis done! The spirit is fled, The pris'ner is gone, The Christian is dead! The Christian is living Thro' Jesus's love,75 And gladly receiving A kingdom above. () All honour and praise Are Jesus's due; Supported by grace, He fought his way thro'; Triumphantly glorious Thro' Jesus's zeal, And more than victorious O'er sin, death, and hell. Page 60 Then let us record The conquering name, Our Captain and Lord With shoutings proclaim: Who trust in his passion, And follow our head, To certain salvation We all shall be led. O Jesus, lead on Thy militant care, And give us the crown Of righteousness there, Where dazled with glory The seraphim gaze, Or prostrate adore thee In silence of praise. Page 61 76First appeared in Funeral Hymns (1746), 17-19 (12). 77Funeral Hymns (1746) ori., "for all." Come, Lord, and display Thy sign in the sky, And bear us away To mansions on high; The kingdom be giv'n, The purchase divine, And crown us in heav'n Eternally thine. Hymn XXIV. On the Death of Mrs. F. C.76 Thanks be to God alone Thro' Jesus Christ his Son! He who hath for us77 obtain'd, Gives our friend the victory: Sister, thou the prize hast gain'd, Died for him, who died for thee. () Page 62 78Funeral Hymns (1746) ori., "thy." 79Funeral Hymns (1746) ori., "From the." The mortal hour is past, Thou hast o'ercome at last, Freed from pain, for ever freed: Ended is the78 glorious strife, Death, the latest foe, is dead, Death is swallow'd up of life. Thy lamb-like innocence Is soon departed hence; From a79 world of sin and pain Thou art clean escap'd away, Sav'd from sin's infectious stain, Taken from the evil day. Stranger to guilty fears Thou liv'dst thy twenty years, From the great transgression free; Never did the poison spread; Jesus, e'er it rose in thee, Jesus crush'd the serpent's head. Page 63