Wesley Corpus

Mercy, and peace your portion be, To carnal minds unknown, The hidden manna, and the tree Of life, and the white stone. The blessings all on you be shed, Which God in Christ imparts, We pray the Spirit of our head Into your faithful hearts. Page 333 Let all, who for the promise wait, The Holy Ghost receive, And rais'd to your unsinning state With God in Eden live. Live, 'till the Lord in glory come, And wait his heaven to share: He now is fitting up your home Go on: we'll meet you there! Hymns for Christian Friends. Hymn LVI. Primitive Christianity.130 Part I. Happy the souls who first believ'd, To Jesus, and each other cleav'd, Join'd by the unction from above, In mystic fellowship of love. Meek, simple followers of the Lamb, They liv'd, and spake, and thought the same; Brake the commemorative bread, And drank the Spirit of their head. On God they cast their every care, Wrestling with God in mighty prayer, They claim'd the grace, thro' Jesus given; By prayer they shut, and open'd heaven. To Jesus they perform'd their vows, A little church in every house; They joyfully conspir'd to raise Their ceaseless sacrifice of praise. Propriety was there unknown, None call'd what he possess'd his own; Where all the common blessing share, No selfish happiness was there. With grace abundantly endu'd, A pure, believing multitude; They all were of one heart and soul, And only love inspir'd the whole. 130Published previously in Earnest Appeal to Men of Reason and Religion, 2nd edn. (Bristol: Farley, 1743), 52-55. A manuscript precursor appears in MS Cheshunt, 160-64. Page 334 Oh, what an age of golden days! Oh, what a choice, peculiar race! Wash'd in the Lamb's all-cleansing blood, Anointed kings, and priests to God! Where shall I wander now to find The successors they left behind? The faithful, whom I seek in vain, Are minish'd from the sons of men. Ye different sects, who all declare Lo! Here is Christ, or Christ is there; Your stronger proofs divinely give, And shew me where the Christians live. Your claim, alas! Ye cannot prove, Ye want the genuine mark of love: Thou only, Lord, thine own canst shew, For sure thou hast a church below.