Wesley Corpus

Thy help to the distress'd afford, The men that tremble at thy word, The quiet of the land; Thy worshippers, if blind, sincere, Who honour thy vicegerent here, And bless his mild command. King George III. Page 5 3This hymn is included in a letter of Charles to his daughter Sally, June 12, 1780, and is identified as written on June 8. And O! Beneath thy mercy's wings, Hide and preserve the best of kings, Our king by right divine: His consort in thy bosom bear, His children make thy darling care, And seal them ever thine. The father of his people bless With outward and internal peace; And when his work is done, Our hoary patriot king receive, Redeem'd from earth, with thee to live, And wear an heavenly crown. Hymn III.3 Saviour, thou dost their threatnings see Who rage against our king and thee, Nor know, thy bridle in their jaws Restrains the friends of Satan's cause. As in religion's cause they join, And blasphemously call it thine, The cause of persecuting zeal, Of treason, anarchy, and hell. See, where th' impetuous waster comes, Like legion rushing from the tombs; Like stormy seas, that toss and roar, And foam, and lash the trembling shore! Havock, th' infernal leader cries! Havock, th' associate host replies! The rabble shouts the torrent pours The city sinks the flame devours! Page 6 4Republished in Arminian Magazine 4 (1781): 455, under the title "A Prayer, written at the time of the Insurrection." A general consternation spreads, While furious crouds ride o're our heads; Tremble the powers thou didst ordain, And rulers bear the sword in vain! Our arm of flesh entirely fails, The many-headed beast prevails; Conspiracy the state o'returns, Gallia exults and London burns! Arm of the Lord, awake, put on Thy strength, and cast Apollyon down, Jesus, against the murtherers rise, And blast them with thy flaming eyes: Forbid the flood our land t' o'erflow, Tell it thou shalt no farther go; My will be done, my word obey'd, And here let thy proud waves be stay'd! Hymn IV.4 God omnipotent, arise, To scatter all thy foes, Blast the rebels with thine eyes, Who thee and thine oppose; Let the tools of anarchy The daring sons of wickedness, Driven as by a whirlwind flee, Before thine angry face.