Wesley Corpus

Ev'n now his arms receive The spirit of my child: He gave him to believe, He shew'd him reconcil'd, Cut short the sudden work of grace, And caught him up to see his face. The hallowing Spirit's prayer Breath'd from his sprinkled heart, And cried, The new-born heir Is ready to depart! And blessings on his friends approve The faith that sweetly works by love. His faith is lost in sight, His prayers are lost in praise, Amidst the saints in light He sings the Saviour's grace, Which strangely kept his conscience clean, Unspotted in a world of sin. So early to remove And quit the vale of tears, A miracle of love Throughout his fourteen years, Preserv'd his sacred innocence, And snatch'd him uncorrupted hence. Who kept his garments white, Hath call'd him to a crown, And lo! From Sion's height The happy spirit looks down, Beyond the range of fiends remov'd, Took from a world he never lov'd. Page 280 He cannot love it now, Or feel its poisoning power, To Satan's image bow, Whom all mankind adore, Worship the learn'd, or scarlet beast, Or seek in creature-good his rest. Nor pleasure soft can sooth His unsuspecting heart, Or tempt his heedless youth From Jesus to depart, Nor grandeur turn his steps aside, That stately littleness of pride! He cannot now aspire With a malicious joy, (While envious passions fire The fond, applauded boy) Or cloak his honourable shame With Emulation's specious name. Ambition in his breast Shall never, never glow; In garb angelic drest, And deified below, It issued from the dark abodes, "The glorious fault of devil-gods!" The soul superior soars To heaven's unfolding scene, The everlasting doors Receive the stranger in, And angels hail the new-born heir, And kindred saints salute him there. A royal coronet Upon his head they place, With stars of glory set, And pearls of heavenly grace; Page 281 They robe him in the milk-white vest, And deck him for the marriage feast. They bring his golden lyre, And lo! He strikes the strings, Amidst th' angelic quire The song of Moses sings, Th' angelic quire, transported prove Diviner joys, and stronger love. He lives to die no more, He reigns above the sky, And I the blessing bore, A joyful mother I My darling son have freely given T' exalt the happiness of heaven. Epitaph.