The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley

He's come to set the prisoner free,
The dear Redeemer's come
To give the final victory,
And take His servant home;
To wipe the sorrow from her eyes,
To end her mourning days,
And show her soul the glorious prize
In His unclouded face.

Long in the toils of death she lay,
Nor fear'd the ghastly king,
When Christ had borne her sins away,
And spoil'd him of his sting;

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Yet still she drank the bitter cup
Of grief and pain extreme,
And fill'd her Lord's afflictions up,
And tasted death with Him.

Seeing the great Invisible,
Her Saviour and her Friend,
She suffer'd all His righteous will,
And suffer'd to the end:
Through a long vale of misery,
She walk'd with Christ her Guide,
And, bleeding on the hallow'd tree,
Confess'd the Crucified.

With all the Spirit's powers she pray'd,
With infinite desire,
To bow her weary, fainting head,
And suddenly expire:
The agonizing prayer was heard
For everlasting peace;
Yet still her faithful Lord deferr'd
To sign her soul's release.

He holds her still in life detain'd,
Her ripen'd grace to prove,
Her steadfast hope, and faith unfeign'd,
And all-victorious love;
To emulate His sacrifice,
Obtain a richer crown,
And point us to the opening skies,
And pray the Saviour down.

“Unutterable things I see!
That purchase of Thy blood,
That place Thou hast prepared for me!
Come, O my God, my God!

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I dare not murmur at Thy stay;
But to depart is best:
Come, O my Saviour, come away,
And take me into rest!

“Now, Lord, into Thy hands receive,
That Thee my soul may bless,
Entirely love her God, and live
To Thine eternal praise.”
She speaks,—and hears the answering word,
“Come up, My spotless bride;”
And angels waft her to her Lord,
And seat her at His side.

University of Virginia Library

ON THE DEATH OF PRUDENCE BOX, JANUARY 9, 1778, AGED THIRTY-EIGHT.