The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley

How long, thou weapon of the Lord,
Jehovah's controversial sword,
Before thy slaughters cease?
Put up thyself into thy sheath,
Be still, thou minister of death,
And sleep in endless peace.

How can it sleep, when hostile Heaven
A charge hath to His servant given,
Against the British shore?
Appointed by an angry God,
Though drunk with seas of human blood,
The glutton thirsts for more.

Have we not dragg'd the judgment down,
Undaunted at the' Almighty's frown,
Unsoften'd by His grace?
And still we madly close our eyes,
Thy mercy spurn, Thy wrath despise,
And mock Thee to Thy face.

We dare the evil day to come:
“The plots and powers of feeble Rome
Can never here prevail;
Secured by rocks our island stands,
By counsels wise, and valiant bands,
And fleets invincible.

“Confiding in our fleshly arm,
Shall Gallic armaments alarm,
Or break our firm repose?”

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Thy judgments soar beyond our sight,
And therefore with presumptuous slight
We puff at all our foes.

Supinely negligent and proud,
The noble and ignoble crowd
In deadly slumber sleep:
The nation sleeps, of conquest sure,
Stands on a precipice secure,
Nor dreads the yawning deep.

Tremendous God, to whom alone
Thy strange destructive works are known,
Thy properest works of grace;
If prayers and tears may yet prevail,
Let mercy turn the hovering scale
For our devoted race.

Urged to the last extremity,
So save us, Lord, that all may see
The work is wholly Thine,
That knowing Him, through whom we live,
Our lives we may to Jesus give,
A sacrifice Divine.

University of Virginia Library

HYMN V. Jeremiah xlvii. 6, 7.