Wesley Corpus

The waves of the sea have lift up their voice, Sore troubled that we in Jesus rejoice; The floods they are roaring, but Jesus is here, While we are adoring, he always is near. Men, devils engage, the billows arise, And horribly rage, and threaten the skies: Their fury shall never our stedfastness shock, The weakest believer is built on a Rock. God ruleth on high, almighty to save, And still he is nigh, his presence we have; The great congregation his triumphs24 shall sing, Ascribing salvation to Jesus our King. Salvation to God who sits on the throne! Let all cry aloud, and honour the Son! Our Jesus's praises the angels proclaim, Fall down on their faces, and worship the Lamb. Then let us adore, and give him his right, All glory, and power, and wisdom, and might, All honour, and blessing, with angels above, And thanks never ceasing, and infinite love. 23A manuscript precursor of this hymn appears in MS Thirty, 202. 24"Triumphs" changed to "triumph" in 2nd edn. (1745) and following. Page 44 Omnipotent King, who reignest on high, Thy mercy we sing, thy haters defy, We give thee thy glory, tho' Satan oppose, And gladly adore thee, in sight of thy foes. The reprobates dare their master proclaim, And loudly declare their sin and their shame; Presumptuous in evil, their god they avow, Their father the devil; and worship him now. And shall we not sing our Master and Lord, Our Maker and King, by angels ador'd, Our merciful Saviour, who brought us to God, And purchas'd us favour by shedding his blood. Yes, Lord we adore, tho' all men deny, And tell of thy power, triumphantly nigh: O Jesu, we bless thee, our Jesus proclaim, And gladly confess thee, for ever the same. In tumult and noise, we sing of thy grace, More mighty our joys, more hearty our praise, Our triumphs are higher, and warmer our zeal, And thee ever nigher than Satan we feel. The sinners we see, who Satan obey, Much happier we, much wiser than they, Our Master is greater, he makes us his heirs, And O! How much better our wages than theirs! Our Jesus is near, whenever we sing, Among us we hear the shout of a King; Our voices are stronger than theirs who blaspheme, And surely we longer shall triumph than them.