The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley

Jesus, help! no longer tarry,
Hasten to redeem Thine own:
Son of God, and Son of Mary,
Answering to Thy creature's groan,
Now omnipotently near,
Prince of life in death appear.

Save her by Thy righteous merit
From the just reward of sin:
By the travail of Thy Spirit,
Bring the timely succours in;
By Thy passion on the tree
Save a soul that gasps to Thee.

Soften, sanctify the anguish,
Sad memorial of her fall;
Let her on Thy bosom languish,
Till Thou bring her safe through all,
Ransom'd from the' extreme distress,
Bid her live—in perfect peace.

God of her complete salvation,
Heal, and bid her body rise;
Let her soul with exultation
Mount to Thee beyond the skies;
Happy as Thy saints above,
Lost in her Redeemer's love.

LVII.

[Hear, O Thou Friend of human kind]

Hear, O Thou Friend of human kind,
Thou Son of Mary, hear,
And let Thy suffering handmaid find
The answer of our prayer.
Thy Spirit's mix'd with nature's cries
Through Thee to heaven ascend:
O send deliverance from the skies,
A swift deliverance send.

Save her, Thyself of woman born,
Thyself the Son of man,
The curse into a blessing turn,
And sanctify the pain:
Be Thou a present succour found
In time of greatest need,
And while her sorrows most abound,
Her comforts shall exceed.

This keenest sense of deep distress
Which feeble flesh can feel,
O'erpower, and swallow up in peace
And joy unspeakable:
Thy love shall bring her safely through:
Thy love to her be given,
And change the pains of hell into
The ecstasies of heaven.

So shall the ransom'd sinner give
To Thee her added days,
So shall the joyful mother live
A monument of Thy praise;
She and her house shall serve the Lord,
Till all from earth remove
In sounds of glory to record
Thine everlasting love.

LVIII.

[Jesus, we ask Thy promised aid]

Jesus, we ask Thy promised aid;
Thou who for us a curse wast made,
The penalty extreme
Far from Thy chosen one remove,
And now the object of Thy love
From curse and death redeem.

First in the primitive offence
The curse she feels with quicker sense:
But, of a woman born,
Thou didst its utmost burden bear,
To make it fall more light on her,
And to a blessing turn.

With pity then the anguish see,
The fruits of sin endured by Thee,
Thou patient Man of Woe:
Thy sufferings past recall to mind,
Shorten in her Thy pangs behind,
And break the mortal blow.

In mercy mitigate her pain,
Her feeble fainting soul sustain
With comforts from above;

Strengthen, till all her pains are pass'd,
And let her every moment taste
The cordial of Thy love.

Before her weary eyes display
The bed where her Redeemer lay,
A Lamb transfix'd and torn!
The place Thou never canst forget,
Where Thou hast paid our utmost debt,
And all our sorrows borne.

O let Thy grief dry up her tears,
And while Thy mangled form appears,
Thy visage marr'd with blood,
Let trouble, fear, and torture cease,
And all her happy soul confess
Her Saviour and her God.

Victorious, with Thy cross in view,
By Thy own travail bring her through
The agonizing hour,
A living monument of praise,
A witness of redeeming grace,
And love's eternal power.

University of Virginia Library

FOR A WOMAN IN TRAVAIL.

LVI.

[Jesus, help! no longer tarry]

LVII.

[Hear, O Thou Friend of human kind]

LVIII.

[Jesus, we ask Thy promised aid]