Hymns and Sacred Poems (1742)
| Author | Charles Wesley |
|---|---|
| Type | hymn-collection |
| Year | 1742 |
| Passage ID | cw-duke-hymns-and-sacred-poems-1742-070 |
| Words | 376 |
| Source | https://divinity.duke.edu/initiatives/wesleyan-methodist/... |
Mine own and not another's eyes The King shall in his beauty view, I shall from him receive the prize The starry12 crown to victors due. A Funeral Hymn. (Used first for Mrs. Elizabeth Hooper.)13 Come, to the house of mourning come, The house of serious, solemn joy, Let us, till all are taken home, Our lives in songs of praise employ. Accomplish'd is our sister's strife, Her happier soul is gone before, Her struggle for eternal life, Her glorious agony is o'er. 12"The starry" changed to "And wear the" in 2nd edn. (1745) only. 13Charles records this first use of the hymn in his MS Journal (May 8, 1741). Mrs Elizabeth Hooper was drawn to the Methodist movement in Bristol in 1739. In August 1740 she helped nurse Charles back to health, lodging him in her home. Page 125 The captive exile is releas'd, Is with her Lord in paradise, Of perfect paradise possest, And waiting for the heavenly prize: In her no spot of sin remain'd, To shake her confidence in God, The victory here she more than gain'd, Triumphant thro' her Saviour's blood. She now the fight of faith hath fought, Finish'd and won the Christian race, She found on earth the Lord she sought, And now beholds him face to face. She died in sure and stedfast hope, By Jesus wholly sanctified, Her perfect spirit she gave up, And sunk into his arms, and died. Thus may we all our parting breath Into the Saviour's hands resign O Jesu! Let me die her death, And let her latter end be mine! Another A Funeral Hymn. Draw near, ye strangers to our God, And taste with us the heavenly powers, O that his love were shed abroad! O that your hearts were all like ours! Come see, how Christians wail their dead! Come share in our mysterious bliss; On Satan, sin, and death to tread, O! What an happiness is this! Page 126 Though once ye intermeddled not With the strange madness of our joys, Ye all may be to Eden brought, And heighten our triumphant noise. With tears of joy our eyes o'reflow At parting with our dearest friend, From us we gladly let her go To pleasures that shall never end.