 | I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
 | VIII. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
 | The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley |  |
ON THE DEATH OF MR. JOHN HUTCHINSON, JULY 23, 1754.
HYMN V.
[Glory, and thanks, and praise]
Glory, and thanks, and praise
To Him who reigns above,
The God of unexampled grace,
Of unexhausted love;
Whose Spirit often grieved
Hath all long-suffering shown,
And now to paradise received
His poor rebellious son.
To Him who reigns above,
The God of unexampled grace,
Of unexhausted love;
Whose Spirit often grieved
Hath all long-suffering shown,
And now to paradise received
His poor rebellious son.
His son (and mine) is fled
Beyond the reach of sin,
The everlasting doors display'd
Admit the wanderer in:
Shout, all ye heavenly choir,
The doubtful conflict past,
My son is scarcely saved by fire
But he is saved at last.
Beyond the reach of sin,
The everlasting doors display'd
Admit the wanderer in:
Shout, all ye heavenly choir,
The doubtful conflict past,
My son is scarcely saved by fire
But he is saved at last.
'Scaped from a life of pain,
Disburden'd of his load;
The struggling soul hath burst its chain
Of peevish flesh and blood:
Safe to the haven brought,
Where storms can never come,
And every folly, every fault,
Is buried in his tomb.
Disburden'd of his load;
The struggling soul hath burst its chain
Of peevish flesh and blood:
224
Where storms can never come,
And every folly, every fault,
Is buried in his tomb.
The pain, whose lingering strife
And frequent impulse tore
The wasted seats of irksome life,
Shall never vex him more:
Nor love's severe excess,
Nor anger's furious start,
Can his indignant spirit oppress,
Or rend his frantic heart.
And frequent impulse tore
The wasted seats of irksome life,
Shall never vex him more:
Nor love's severe excess,
Nor anger's furious start,
Can his indignant spirit oppress,
Or rend his frantic heart.
The tyrannizing power
Of his own wayward will,
The buffetings of sin are o'er,
The stubborn pulse is still;
Jesus hath heard our prayer,
And caught him to His breast,
And lull'd the self-tormentor there
To everlasting rest.
Of his own wayward will,
The buffetings of sin are o'er,
The stubborn pulse is still;
Jesus hath heard our prayer,
And caught him to His breast,
And lull'd the self-tormentor there
To everlasting rest.
Omnipotent to save,
Thou didst Thine arm reveal,
And on the margin of the grave
All his backslidings heal:
“Thou didst Thy blood impart,
To sign his soul's release,
And whisper love into his heart,
And bid him die in peace.”
Thou didst Thine arm reveal,
And on the margin of the grave
All his backslidings heal:
“Thou didst Thy blood impart,
To sign his soul's release,
And whisper love into his heart,
And bid him die in peace.”
Our hearts with hopes and fears,
Dying, he chills, and warms,
The sad desponding sinner cheers,
The confident alarms:
Left to the tempter's power,
He cries to all “Beware,”
But pardon'd at his latest hour,
Prohibits our despair.
Dying, he chills, and warms,
The sad desponding sinner cheers,
The confident alarms:
225
He cries to all “Beware,”
But pardon'd at his latest hour,
Prohibits our despair.
Instructed from above,
Let us the warning take,
Nor ever, Lord, abuse Thy love,
Or Thee or Thine forsake:
Ah! rather now receive
The purchase of Thy blood,
Than let us live to tempt or grieve
The patience of our God.
Let us the warning take,
Nor ever, Lord, abuse Thy love,
Or Thee or Thine forsake:
Ah! rather now receive
The purchase of Thy blood,
Than let us live to tempt or grieve
The patience of our God.
In self-mistrusting fear
Thy mercy we implore,
To keep us, till our conflicts here
Triumphantly are o'er:
Ah! make us better, Lord,
And take us at the best,
Meet to receive our full reward
In love's eternal feast.
Thy mercy we implore,
To keep us, till our conflicts here
Triumphantly are o'er:
Ah! make us better, Lord,
And take us at the best,
Meet to receive our full reward
In love's eternal feast.
HYMN VI. ANOTHER.
[Why should my tears for ever flow]
Why should my tears for ever flow,
Why should I wail the close of woe,
The end of misery?
His real life doth still remain,
Nothing is dead but grief and pain,
But that which wish'd to die.
Why should I wail the close of woe,
The end of misery?
His real life doth still remain,
Nothing is dead but grief and pain,
But that which wish'd to die.
226
My Hutchinson himself survives;
He lives, to God he greatly lives!
The' imperishable part
Is rapt beyond our world of care;
Yet now by faithful love I bear
His image on my heart.
He lives, to God he greatly lives!
The' imperishable part
Is rapt beyond our world of care;
Yet now by faithful love I bear
His image on my heart.
I see the generous friend sincere!
His voice still vibrates in my ear,
The voice of truth and love!
It calls me to put off my clay,
It bids me soar with him away
To fairer worlds above.
His voice still vibrates in my ear,
The voice of truth and love!
It calls me to put off my clay,
It bids me soar with him away
To fairer worlds above.
Not even in death his friendship dies:
With grateful pity and surprise
I ask, How can it be?
Loosen'd from all he leaves behind,
Yet still—unutterably kind—
Yet still—he cleaves to me.
With grateful pity and surprise
I ask, How can it be?
Loosen'd from all he leaves behind,
Yet still—unutterably kind—
Yet still—he cleaves to me.
On me he rests his dying head,
And catching grasps a broken reed,
But will not let me part,
Till Jesus visits him again,
By nobler love dissolves the chain,
And vindicates his heart.
And catching grasps a broken reed,
But will not let me part,
Till Jesus visits him again,
By nobler love dissolves the chain,
And vindicates his heart.
Soon as the heavenly Guest arrives,
No more he fondly pants and strives
To' entwist his soul with mine:
He shakes me off—and then his clay,
He gives me up—and dies away
Into the arms Divine.
No more he fondly pants and strives
To' entwist his soul with mine:
He shakes me off—and then his clay,
He gives me up—and dies away
Into the arms Divine.
227
Departed hence in perfect peace,
He loves me now without excess,
Or passionate alloy;
Serene, he waits my spirit's flight,
To range with his the plains of light,
And climb the mount of joy.
He loves me now without excess,
Or passionate alloy;
Serene, he waits my spirit's flight,
To range with his the plains of light,
And climb the mount of joy.
Reposed in those Elysian seats,
Where Jonathan his David meets,
Our souls shall soon embrace,
The utmost power of friendship prove,
Commenced on earth, matured above,
In ecstasies of praise.
Where Jonathan his David meets,
Our souls shall soon embrace,
The utmost power of friendship prove,
Commenced on earth, matured above,
In ecstasies of praise.
How shall we sing and triumph there,
Our dangers and escapes compare,
Our days of flesh and woe!
How comprehend the plan Divine,
And sweetly in His praises join
Through whom we met below.
Our dangers and escapes compare,
Our days of flesh and woe!
How comprehend the plan Divine,
And sweetly in His praises join
Through whom we met below.
Through whom in paradise we meet,
Great Author of our joy complete,
Thee, Jesus, we proclaim,
While all the saints stand listening round,
And all the realms of bliss resound
Salvation to the Lamb.
Great Author of our joy complete,
Thee, Jesus, we proclaim,
While all the saints stand listening round,
And all the realms of bliss resound
Salvation to the Lamb.
The Lamb hath brought us through the fire;
The Lamb shall raise our raptures higher,
When all from earth are driven,
Our glorious Head shall cleave the skies,
And bid His church triumphant rise
From paradise to heaven.
The Lamb shall raise our raptures higher,
When all from earth are driven,
Our glorious Head shall cleave the skies,
And bid His church triumphant rise
From paradise to heaven.
| The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | |