Wesley Corpus

O might we all, like him, believe, And keep the faith, and win the prize! Father, prepare, and then receive Our hallow'd spirits to the skies, To chant with all our friends above Thy glorious everlasting love. Hymn XL. On the Death of Mr. Thomas Walsh,47 April 8, 1759. Aged 28. Part I. God of unfathomable grace, Unsearchable to mortal sight, Faithful and just are all thy ways, Whatever is from thee, is right: In wisdom and mysterious love, Thou hast revok'd the blessing given; Thy will be done beneath, above, Thy name ador'd in earth and heaven. A zealous instrument of good, A vessel fit for use divine; Thy mercy on thy church bestow'd, And gave the burning light to shine: 47Walsh was born near Limerick, in Ireland. He was raised Roman Catholic but eventually conformed to the Church of Ireland. He was converted in 1749 under the Methodist preaching of Robert Swindells and joined the society. John Wesley invited him into traveling ministry the next year. Page 64 Thy grace had first prepar'd his heart, Dispel'd the Babylonish gloom, And bid his early youth depart The camp of antichristian Rome. Drawn by a secret power he flew, (Nor stay'd to prop the papal throne) The truth determin'd to pursue, And panting for a God unknown: By works of legal righteousness He blindly sought the grace t' obtain, But could not find the paths of peace, But labour'd thro' the fire in vain. While thus he toil'd, a sudden cry Proclaim'd th' approaching multitude: They told of Jesus passing by, Of free redemption in his blood: Upstarted like the beggar blind, He sprang the healing touch to meet, Cast all his filthy rags behind, And groan'd for faith at Jesus' feet. Th' incarnate God his sight restor'd, With faith the heart-felt pardon gave, And rais'd him up to preach his Lord, So willing all mankind to save: By Christ himself ordain'd, and sent An herald of redeeming grace, Eager to the highways he went, And fill'd the land with Jesus' praise. But lo! The soul insnaring fiend, Soon as the stripling's course began, Urg'd him for trifles to contend, And turn'd aside to janglings vain. Page 65 Not long: for soon his upright heart Retriev'd its momentary loss, Resolv'd its utmost powers t' exert, And only glory in the cross.