Wesley Corpus

Hymns for Times of Trouble and Persecution (1744)

AuthorCharles Wesley
Typehymn-collection
Year1744
Passage IDcw-duke-hymns-for-times-of-trouble-and-persecution-1744-004
Words375
Sourcehttps://divinity.duke.edu/initiatives/wesleyan-methodist/...
Christology Repentance Works of Mercy
Jesus, mighty Mediator, Plead the cause of guilty man: Pity is thy gentle nature; Canst thou let us cry in vain? From thy Father's anger skreen us, Suffer not his wrath to move; Stand thou in the gap between us, Change his purpose into love. Jesu, sin-atoning Lamb, Thine utmost pity shew: All the virtue of thy name O let thy rebels know! Us, by God and man abhor'd, Into thy kind protection take; Spare the guilty nation, Lord, For thy own mercy's sake.5 Worst of all th' apostate race, Yet listen to our cry; Most unworthy of thy grace, Without thy grace we die; 5Ori., "mercy-sake"; corrected here and in following stanzas in 2nd edn. (1745). Page 8 Tophet is our just reward, Yet snatch us from the burning lake, Spare the guilty nation, Lord, For thy own mercy's sake. Scandal of the Christian name, Which still we vainly bear, Sodom-like, our sin and shame We openly declare, Trample on thy sacred word, And cast thy laws behind our back: Spare the guilty nation, Lord, For thy own mercy's sake. Though thy judgments are abroad, Let us thy goodness prove, Save us, O all-gracious God, In honour of thy love: Though thy righteous wrath is stir'd, Arising slow, the earth to shake, Spare the guilty nation, Lord, For thy own mercy's sake. In our forty days reprieve, Warn the rebellious race; Bid us turn, repent, and live To glorify thy grace; O reverse the threatning word, And do not, do not vengeance take, Spare the guilty nation, Lord, For thy own mercy's sake. O alarm the sleeping crowd, And fill their souls with dread; Then avert the low'ring cloud, Impendent o'er our head: Turn aside th' invading sword, And drive the alien armies back, Spare the guilty nation, Lord, For thy own mercy's sake. Page 9 Merciful God, to thee we cry, O think upon us, or we die The ever-living death! Lo! By a mighty tempest tost, Our ship without thine aid is lost, Lost in the gulph beneath. The mariners are struck with fear, And shudder at destruction near, So high the billows swell; Ready to o'erwhelm our shatter'd state; Thy judgments fall with all their weight, To crush us into hell.