Wesley Corpus

Ye simple souls, that stray Far from the path of peace (That unfrequented way To life and happiness) How long will ye your folly love, And throng the downward road, And hate the wisdom from above, And mock the sons of God? Madness and misery Ye count our life beneath, And nothing great can see Or glorious in our death: As born to suffer and to grieve Beneath your feet we lie, And utterly contemn'd we live, And unlamented die. Poor pensive sojourners, O'erwhelm'd with griefs and woes, Perplex'd with needless fears, And pleasure's mortal foes; More irksome than a gaping tomb Our sight ye cannot bear, Wrapt in the melancholy gloom Of fanciful despair. So wretched, and obscure, The men whom ye despise, So foolish, weak, and poor Above your scorn we rise: Page 22 Our conscience in the Holy Ghost Can witness better things, For he whose blood is all our boast Hath made us priests and kings. Riches unsearchable In Jesus' love we know, And pleasures from the well Of life our souls o'erflow: From him the Spirit we receive Of wisdom, grace, and pow'r, And alway sorrowful we live Rejoicing evermore. Angels our servants are, And keep in all our ways, And in their hands they bear The sacred sons of grace; Our guardians to that heav'nly bliss They all our steps attend, And God himself our Father is, And Jesus is our friend. With him we walk in white, We in his image shine, Our robes are robes of light, Our righteousness divine: On all the grov'ling kings of earth With pity we look down, And claim, in virtue of our birth, A never-fading crown. Hymn XVII. For a Minister of Christ.25 To: "Hail, holy, holy, holy Lord!" Jesus, my strength and righteousness, My Saviour and my King, Triumphantly thy name I bless, Thy conquering name I sing. 25Manuscript precursors of this hymn appear in MS Shent, 124b, 134a-134b; and MS Thirty, 104-6. Page 23 Thou, Lord, hast magnified thy name, Thou hast maintain'd thy cause, And I enjoy the glorious shame, The scandal of thy cross. Thou gavest me to speak thy word In the appointed hour, I have proclaimed my dying Lord, And felt thy Spirit's power: Superior to thy26 foes I stood, Above their smile or frown, On all the strangers to thy blood With pitying love look'd down.