Wesley Corpus

Thy holy will be done, not mine, Be suffer'd all thy holy will: I dare not, Lord, the cross decline, I will not lose the slightest ill, Or lay the heaviest burthen down, The richest jewel of my crown. Sorrow is solid joy, and pain Is pure delight, endur'd for thee, Reproach and loss are glorious gain, And death is immortality; And who for thee their all have given, Have nobly barter'd earth for heaven. Saved is the life for Jesus lost, Hidden from earth, but found in God, To suffer is to triumph most, The highest gift on man bestow'd, Seal of my sure election this, Seal of mine everlasting bliss. The touchstone, and the proof of grace, The standard of perfection here, The measure of my heavenly place, When Christ and all his saints appear, The mark divine, by Jesu's7 art Imprinted on my faithful heart. O might it deeper sink (but give Me strength thy strongest love to bear) Fain would I die with thee to live, Fain would I all thy passion share; 7Ori., "Jesus"; corrected in 2nd edn. (1756). Page 13 To me thy thorny crown be given On earth, thy glorious crown in heaven. The Trial of Faith. Hymn VIII. It must be so; thou sayst it must! True is thine acceptable word, They will from their communions thrust The faithful followers of their Lord, Buffet, and vex, and scourge, and bind The friends, and patrons of mankind. Full of the wicked one, and born After the flesh, they will pursue With restless hate, and cruel scorn The souls whom thou hast form'd anew, The saints begotten from above, Born of the Spirit of thy love. Who would the life of God regain, And thee for their example take, They too the honour shall obtain, And persecuted for thy sake, Thy confessors their seal set to, True witnesses that God is true. Who only seek in thee our rest, Are we not now a proverb made, Revil'd, rejected, and opprest, By brethren, and by friends betray'd, By bitterest household-foes pursued, Hated of all that love not God? Since first we heaven-ward turn'd our face, Expos'd, and out-rag'd all day long, An helpless, poor, afflicted race, For doing good, we suffer wrong. Page 14 We suffer shame, distress, and loss, And wait for all thy glorious cross.