Wesley Corpus

Fishers of men, by Satan sent, They hunt them thro' the continent, And catch them in their toils, As reptiles vile they tread them down, And then proclaim their own renown, And glory in their wiles. But soon their evil day shall come, And thou, the righteous God, consume The weapons of thine ire: Yet merciful when once severe, O let them have their chast'ning here, And 'scape th' eternal fire! Hymn V. Happy, for ever happy they, Taken from the evil day, Who will not live to see Their country wasted and o'erthrown, Or swell the sympathizing groan At Britain's misery. The great vindictive day's begun, God's destructive work we own, Which general horror spreads; His thunders roar, his lightnings shine, And vials big with wrath divine Are bursting on our heads. But while the showers of vengeance come, May not prayer prevent our doom, And save us from the fire? Have we no part in Abraham's God? Or is it not in Jesu's blood To quench thy flaming ire? With the flagitious multitude Wilt thou slay the just and good, Page 11 In whom thou dost delight, The men who tremble at thy word? Or shall not the great judge and Lord Of all the earth do right? Wouldst thou for fifty righteous men, Wouldst thou for the sake of ten Have spar'd the wicked place? And wilt thou not ten thousand hear, Who ceaseless advocates appear For our abandon'd race? Ten thousand now unite their cries Mingled with that sacrifice Which did for all atone; Thy church, in one request agreed, For mercy ask, and only plead The death of Abraham's Son. The Son of Abraham, and thine, Just with righteousness divine, Doth in his members pray: Our powerful Advocate and head, He ever lives to intercede, And turn thy wrath away. Thou always hear'st thy favourite Son: Make in him thy mercy known, That all again may see Britannia pluck'd out of the flame, And glorify our Saviour's name, For ever one with thee. Hymn VI. Malachi iv. 1. O Lord of hosts, to whom are known Thy works of judgment and of grace, If thy great day is now begun, And doth as a fierce furnace blaze, The sons of pride shall be cast in, And all the harden'd slaves of sin. Page 12