Wesley Corpus

His son (and mine) is fled Beyond the reach of sin, The everlasting doors display'd Admit the wanderer in: Shout all ye heavenly quire, The doubtful conflict past, My son is scarcely sav'd by fire, But he is sav'd at last. 'Scap'd from a life of pain, Disburthen'd of his load; The struggling soul hath burst its chain Of peevish flesh and blood: Safe to the haven brought, Where storms can never come, And every folly, every fault, Is buried in his tomb. The pain, whose ling'ring strife And frequent impulse tore The wasted seats of irksome life, Shall never vex him more: Nor love's severe excess, Nor anger's furious start, Can his indignant spirit oppress, Or rend his frantick heart. The tyrannizing power Of his own wayward will, The buffettings of sin are o'er, The stubborn pulse is still; Jesus hath heard our prayer, And caught him to his breast, And lull'd the self-tormentor there To everlasting rest. Omnipotent to save, Thou didst thine arm reveal, Page 10 And on the margin of the grave All his backslidings heal: "Thou didst thy blood impart, To sign his soul's release, And whisper love into his heart, And bid him die in peace." Our hearts with hopes and fears, Dying, he chills, and warms, The sad desponding sinner chears, The confident alarms: Left to the tempter's power, He cries to all "Beware," But pardon'd at his latest hour, Prohibits our despair. Instructed from above, Let us the warning take, Nor ever, Lord, abuse thy love, Or thee or thine forsake: Ah! Rather now receive The purchase of thy blood, Than let us live to tempt or grieve The patience of our God. In self-mistrusting fear, Thy mercy we implore, To keep us, till our conflicts here Triumphantly are o'er: Ah! Make us better, Lord, And take us at the best, Meet to receive our full reward, In love's eternal feast. Page 11 Hymn VI. Another On the Death of Mr. John Hutchinson, July 23, 1754. Why should my tears for ever flow, Why should I wail the close of woe, The end of misery? His real life doth still remain, Nothing is dead but grief and pain, But that which wish'd to die.