Wesley Corpus

'Tis he! The Prince of Peace! 'Tis he! The Lord of power! Whom all these shining hosts of his Their Maker-God adore: He suffer'd in our stead, That we with him might reign; But he shall never bow his head, Shall never die again. 115John Wesley substituted "deathless" for "endless" in manuscript in his personal copy of the 2nd edn. Page 320 Hymns for Christian Friends. Hymn XLIV. At Meeting of Friends. O Father receive our heartiest praise, For bidding us live to witness thy grace, For bringing us hither thy goodness to prove, And triumph together in Jesus's love. Our confident trust in him we declare, Thro' Jesus the just accepted we are; Redeem'd by his passion, we joyfully join T' ascribe our salvation to mercy divine. Thee, Lord, we adore, and dwell on thy praise, Preserv'd by the power of Jesus's grace; Thee, Jesus, the giver of all we proclaim, And publish forever thy wonderful name. Thy name is release from sorrow, and sin, 'Tis pardon, and peace, and goodness brought in; It speaks us forgiven, sinks into the soul, And spreads the pure leaven, and hallows the whole. Hymns for Christian Friends. Hymn XLV.116 Jesu, to thee our hearts we lift, Our hearts which now with love o'erflow, With thanks for thy continued gift, That still thy precious name we know, Retain the sense of sin forgiven, And wait for all our inward heaven. What mighty troubles hast thou shewn Thy feeble tempted followers here! We have thro' fire, and water gone, But saw thee on the floods appear, But felt thee present in the flame, And shouted our deliverer's name. 116Ori., "Hymn XLVI"; corrected in errata and 2nd edn. (1756). Page 321 When stronger souls their faith forsook, And lull'd in worldly hellish peace, Leap'd desp'rate from their guardian Rock, And headlong plung'd in sin's abyss, Thy power was in our weakness shewn, And still it keeps our souls thine own. All are not lost, or wandred back, All have not left thy church, and thee: There are who suffer for thy sake, Enjoy thy glorious infamy, Esteem the scandal of thy cross, And only seek divine applause. We do not shamefully desert Thy poor afflicted flock below, Yield to the reverend tempter's art, Or sell our friend, to buy our foe, T' increase the world's triumphant scorn, And make our blushing brethren mourn.