Wesley Corpus

Give me to triumph in thy shame, Branded with a madman's name, A false, deceiving liar, A wine-bibber, and glutton too, I rise in sacred scandal higher, And all thy steps pursue. Page 58 The world that mock'd, and slander'd thee, Let them scorn and blacken me, Pervert my good to evil, (The lot my Lord did first receive) And falsely cry he hath a devil, And is not fit to live. By bosom-friends betray'd, forsook, Let me to my pattern look, No human help desire, But stand, secure without defence, And force the heathen judge t' admire My speechless innocence. Let all in Satan's counsel join, Jews and Gentiles both combine, People and priests conspire To drive me to my heavenly home, And hoary Caiaphas require The vile blasphemer's doom. Happy, forever happy I, Sentenc'd on thy cross to die! But shall a sinner dare Aspire to such a glorious grace? Thou knowst I would thy passion share, And die to see thy face. I would for thee my life resign, Suffer in the strength divine; Thro' love's almighty power; Would tread the path my Jesus trod, And calmly meet the fiery hour, Resisting unto blood. Ah! Let it not my Lord displease, That I long for my release! Page 59 Thy mind to me be given, Thy Spirit breathe within my heart, And let my soul, by violence driven, Into thy arms depart. Among the slaughter'd souls might I Underneath the altar cry, How long thou true, and holy, Dost thou delay t' avenge our blood! Come, Lord, and glorify us fully, The martyr'd saints of God. Desiring Death. Hymn I. To languish for his native air, Can the poor, wandring exile cease? The tir'd his wish of rest forbear? The tortur'd help desiring ease? The slave no more for freedom sigh? Or I no longer pine to die? As shipwreck'd mariners desire With eager grasp to reach the shore, As hirelings long t' obtain their hire, And veterans wish their warfare o'er, I languish from this earth to flee, And gasp for immortality. To heaven I lift my mournful eyes, And all within me groans "How long?" O were I landed in the skies! The bitter loss, the cruel wrong Should there no more my soul molest, Or break my everlasting rest. Page 60