The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley

Thanks be to God alone,
Through Jesus Christ His Son!
He who hath for all obtain'd,
Gives our friend the victory:
Sister, thou the prize hast gain'd,
Died for Him who died for thee.

The mortal hour is past,
Thou hast o'ercome at last,
Freed from pain, for ever freed,
Ended is thy glorious strife,
Death, the latest foe, is dead,
Death is swallow'd up of life.

The lamb-like innocence
Is soon departed hence;
From the world of sin and pain
Thou art clean escaped away,
Saved from sin's infectious stain,
Taken from the evil day.

Stranger to guilty fears,
Thou lived'st thy twenty years,
From the great transgression free;
Never did the poison spread;
Jesus, ere it rose in thee,
Jesus crush'd the serpent's head.

His Spirit's gentlest art
Open'd thy simple heart;
The eternal gospel word
Lydia-like thou didst receive,
Fall before thy bleeding Lord,
Own Him, and with ease believe.

205

Soon as thy heart did feel
The pardon-stamping seal,
Heard thy soul the warning cry,
“Here thou hast not long to stay,
Rise, My love, make haste to die,
Rise, My love, and come away!”

Thy cheerful soul obey'd,
Through suffering perfect made,
Perfect made in a short space,
Thy resign'd and Christlike soul
Started forth and won the race,
Reach'd at once the glorious goal.

Aloft the spirit flies
And gains her native skies;
Kindred souls salute her there,
Springing from the azure throne,
All in shouts their joy declare,
All their new-born sister own.

The' angelic army sings,
And clap their golden wings!
Harping with their harps they praise
Him, through whom she all o'ercame,
Sharer of His richest grace,
Closest follower of the Lamb.

From love's soft witchcraft free,
Her spotless purity
Lived to only Christ below;
Higher now she reigns above,
Mightier joys advanced to know,
Honour'd with His choicest love.

206

Among the morning-stars
A brighter crown she wears,
With peculiar glories graced,
Seated on a loftier throne,
To superior raptures raised,
Nearest God's eternal Son.

Mix'd with the virgin train
She charms the' ethereal plain,
With the Lamb for ever found;
Angels listen while she sings,
Catch the' inimitable sound,
Music for the King of kings!

O happy, happy soul,
Thy heavenly joy is full!
Thee the Lamb hath made His bride,
Call'd thee to His feast above;
Thee He now hath glorified,
Taught thee the new song of love.

O that at last even I,
Like thee, might sweetly die:
Die, and leave the world of woe,
Die out of the reach of sin,
Die the joys of heaven to know:
Open, Lord, and take me in!

Give me Thy bliss to share,
The meanest spirit there,
Only let me see Thy face,
See with Thee my happier friend,
At an awful distance gaze,
Taste the joys that never end.

207

Thou wilt cut short my years,
And wipe away my tears;
Lo! I wait Thy leisure still,
Humbly at Thy footstool lie,
Calm to suffer all Thy will,
Glad in Thee to live and die.

University of Virginia Library

HYMN XII. ON THE DEATH OF MRS. F. C.