Wesley Corpus

The gates of hell cannot prevail, The church on earth can never fail: Ah! Join me to thy secret ones, Ah! Gather all thy living stones. Scatter'd o'er all the earth they lie, 'Till thou collect them with thine eye, Draw by the music of thy name, And charm into a beauteous frame. For this the pleading Spirit groans, And cries in all thy banish'd ones: Greatest of gifts, thy love impart, And make us of one mind and heart. Join every soul that looks to thee, In bonds of perfect charity: Now, Lord, the glorious fulness give, And all in all forever live. Part II. Jesus, from whom all blessings flow, Great builder of thy church below, Page 335 If now thy Spirit moves my breast, Hear, and fulfil thine own request. The few that truly call thee Lord, And wait thy sanctifying word, And thee their utmost Saviour own, Unite, and perfect them in one. Gather them in on every side, And in thy tabernacle hide; Give them a resting-place to find, A covert from the storm, and wind. O find them out some calm recess, Some unfrequented wilderness! Thou, Lord, the secret place prepare, And hide, and feed the woman there. Thither collect thy little flock, Under the shadow of their Rock: The holy seed, the royal race, The standing mon'uments of thy grace. O let them all thy mind express, Stand forth thy chosen witnesses! Thy power unto salvation shew, And perfect holiness below: The fulness of thy grace receive, And simply to thy glory live; Strongly reflect the light divine, And in a land of darkness shine. In them let all mankind behold How Christians liv'd in days of old; (Mighty their envious foes to move, A proverb of reproach and love.) O make them of one soul and heart, The all-conforming mind impart; Spirit of peace, and unity, The sinless mind that was in thee. Call them into thy wondrous light, Worthy to walk with thee in white; Page 336 Make up thy jewels, Lord, and shew The glorious spotless church below. From every sinful wrinkle free, Redeem'd from all iniquity; The fellowship of saints make known; And Oh! My God, might I be one! O might my lot be cast with these, The least of Jesu's witnesses! O that my Lord would count me meet To wash his dear disciples' feet!