Wesley Corpus

Omnipotent Lord, my Saviour and King, Thy succour afford, thy righteousness bring; Thy promises bind thee compassion to have, Now, now let me find thee Almighty to save. Rejoicing in hope, and patient in grief, To thee I look up for certain relief, I fear no denial, no danger I fear, Nor start from the tryal, while Jesus is near. I every hour in jeopardy stand; But thou art my power, and holdest my hand, While yet I am calling, thy succour I feel, It saves me from falling, or plucks me from hell. O who can explain this struggle for life! This travel34 and pain, this trembling and strife! Plague, earthquake, and famine, and tumult and war, The wonderful coming of Jesus declare. For every fight is dreadful and loud, The warrior's delight is slaughter and blood, His foes overturning, till all shall expire; But this is with burning, and fewel of fire. Yet God is above men, devils, and sin, My Jesus's35 love, the battle shall win, So terribly glorious his coming shall be, His love all victorious shall conquer for me. 32"Thy" changed to "thine" in 2nd edn. (1745) and following. 33"Thy" changed to "thine" in 2nd edn. (1745) and following. 34Likely "travail" is intended; but is "travel" in all edns. 35Ori., "Jesus his"; changed in 3rd edn. (1756). Page 138 He all shall break thro', his truth and his grace Shall bring me into the plentiful place: Thro' much tribulation, thro' water and fire, Thro' floods of temptation, and flames of desire. On Jesus my power till then I rely, All evil before his presence shall fly, When I have my Saviour, my sin shall depart, And Jesus forever shall reign in my heart. Habakkuk iii. 17, 18, 19. Away my unbelieving fear! Fear shall in me no more have place; My Saviour doth not yet appear, He hides the brightness of his face: But shall I therefore let him go, And basely to the tempter yield? No, in the strength of Jesus, no! I never will give up my shield. Altho' the vine its fruit deny, Altho' the olive yield no oil, The withering fig-tree droop and die, The field elude36 the tiller's toil, The empty stall no herd afford, And perish all the bleating race, Yet will I triumph in the Lord, The God of my salvation praise.