Wesley Corpus

When thou hast seal'd thy people's peace, Their sacrifice of righteousness, Their gifts thou wilt approve, Their every thought, and word, and deed, That from a living faith proceed, And all are wrought in love. Laid on the altar of thy Son, Pleasing to thee thro' Christ alone The dear peculiar race Their grateful sacrifice shall bring, And hymn their Father, and their King, In endless songs of praise. Psalm LXXX.19 (Adapted to the Church of England.) Shepherd of souls, the great, the good, Who leadest Israel like a sheep, Present to guard, and give them food, And kindly in thy bosom keep; Hear thy afflicted people's prayer, Arise out of thy holy place, Stir up thy strength, thine arm make bare, And vindicate thy chosen race. Haste to our help, thou God of love, Supreme Almighty King of kings, Descend all-glorious from above, Come flying on the cherubs' wings. Page 15 Turn us again, O Lord, and shew The brightness of thy lovely face, So shall we all be saints below, And sav'd, and perfected in grace. O Lord of hosts, O God of grace, How long shall thy fierce anger burn Against thine own peculiar race Who ever pray thee to return! Thou giv'st us plenteous draughts of tears, With tears thou dost thy people feed, We sorrow, till thy face appears, Affliction is our daily bread. A strife we are to all around, By vile intestine vipers torn, Our bitter household foes abound, And laugh our fallen church to scorn. Turn us again, O God, and shew The brightness of thy lovely face, So shall we all be saints below, And sav'd, and perfected in grace. Surely, O Lord, we once were thine, (Thou hast for us thy wonders wrought) A generous and right noble vine, When newly out of Egypt brought. Thou didst the heathen stock expel, And chase them from their quiet home, Druids, and all the brood of hell, And monks of antichristian Rome. Planted by thine almighty hand, Watered with blood, the vine took root, And spread throughout the happy land, And fill'd the earth with golden fruit. The hills were cover'd with her shade, Her branchy arms extending wide Their fair luxuriant honours spread, And flourish'd as the cedar's pride. Page 16 20This stanza is deleted starting with 4th edn. (1748); and later stanzas renumbered accordingly.