Wesley Corpus

By the Rev. Charles Wesley. Ah lovely appearance of Death! No sight upon earth is so fair, Not all the gay pageants that breathe Can with this dead body compare. With solemn delight I survey The corpse when the spirit is fled, In love with the beautiful clay, And longing to lie in its stead. How blest is our brother bereft Of all that could burden his mind! How easy the soul that hath left This wearisome body behind Of evil incapable thou, Whose relics with envy I see ; No longer in misery now, No longer a sinner like me. This earth is affected no more, With sickness, or shaken with pain ; The war in the members is o'er, And never shall vex him again ! No anger henceforward, or shame, Shall redden this innocent clay ; Extinct is the animal flame, And passion is vanish'd away. The languishing head is at rest, It's thinking and aching is o'er ; The quiet immoveable breast Is heav'd by affliction no more : The heart is no longer the seat Of trouble or torturing pain ; It ceases to flutter and beat It never shall flutter again ! These lids he so seldom could close, By sorrow forbidden to sleep, Lock'd up in eternal repose, Have strangely forgotten to weep ! The fountains can yield no supplies, These hollows from water are free, The tears are all wip'd from these eyes And evil they never shall see f To mourn and to suffer is mine, While bound in a prison I breathe, And still for deliverance pine, And press to the issues of death. What now with my tears I bedew O might I this moment become, My spirit created anew, My frame be consign'd to the tomb ! C. Baldwin, Printer, New Bridge-street, Londoa,