The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley

Righteous, O God, are all Thy ways!
A sinful still-afflicted man
The cause I mournfully confess,
And bleeding with another's pain,
And justly punish'd in my son,
I cry—Thy awful will be done!

The cause in its effect I find,
My sin in its chastisement read:
Thy judgments bring my sin to mind,
And guilty of his death I plead,
If justice now demand its prey,
And Thou art come my son to slay.

Less than Thy least of mercies, I
Have mercies numberless abused,
Worthy a thousand deaths to die
Who life, eternal life refused,

116

Provoked by vile idolatry,
And loved Thy creature more than Thee.

Wherefore Thy righteousness I own,
If Thou the forfeiture require,
If now I hear his latest groan,
And while I see my child expire,
The sorrow break my aching heart,
The sight my soul and body part.

Yet spare him—for His only sake
Who never sinn'd against Thy love,
And from the gates of death bring back,
In honour of my Friend above
Who offers up the sinner's prayer,
Whose blood beseeches Thee to spare.

God of unfathomable grace,
Whom now I in the dust adore,
Omnipotent the dead to raise,
Display the wonders of Thy power,
And kindly give me back my son,
To' exalt and glorify Thine own.

XCVIII.

[Thou God who hear'st the prayer]

Thou God who hear'st the prayer
Of supplicants distress'd,
With pity mark the care
In a sad parent's breast:
I cannot, Lord, dissemble;
But all my weakness own:
Thou know'st for whom I tremble,—
My son, my only son!

117

Thou gav'st on this condition,
That I should ready be
To bow with meek submission,
And yield him back to Thee:
To all Thy dispensations
I would, I would submit,
And weep with humble patience,
And tremble at Thy feet.

I must, I do restore,
If Thou revoke Thy loan,
And silently adore,
Or sigh, Thy will be done:
To Thee his great Creator,
I with my Isaac part:
But O, Thou know'st my nature,
Thou read'st a father's heart.

My bowels of compassion
Thou dost vouchsafe to feel,
With vehement deprecation
While nature's wish I tell;
Ah, do not yet receive him
To that celestial choir,
But hasten to relieve him,
Before my son expire.

This sorrowful petition
Obtain'd Thy gracious ear,
When our Divine Physician
Thou didst on earth appear:
And still I sue for favour,
And still invoke Thy name,
Jesus, my present Saviour,
Eternally the same.

118

Bidden in time of trouble
For help to call on Thee,
Lord, I my suit redouble,
Till Thy design I see:
I never will give over
My passionate request,
Till Thou the child recover,
Or take him to Thy breast.

XCIX.

[Father, Thy froward children spare]

Father, Thy froward children spare,
Who tempt Thee by our daily prayer,
And while we say, Thy will be done,
Alas, we only mean our own.

Yet now permit the sad request
Of parents for their son distress'd,
Nature's infirmity forgive,
If still we ask that he may live.

Prostrate before Thy mercy-seat
We ask; but would our will submit,
Whene'er Thy sovereign will remove
The child, whom next to Thee we love.

We would our earthly bliss resign,
Bestow'd, revoked, by grace Divine,
(If call'd with more than life to part,)
And tear him from our bleeding heart.

But O, before the fix'd decree
Bring forth, may we not cry to Thee,
Our weakness and reluctance own,
And for the faith of Abraham groan?

119

We want our wishes to suspend,
On Thy decisive word to' attend,
Our wishes at Thy feet we lay,
And calmly weep, and humbly pray.

Yet shall we, Lord, our hearts disguise,
Or hide from Thy all-seeing eyes?
Our hearts, till we Thy counsel know,
Will deprecate the threaten'd blow.

Joy of our eyes, our heart's desire,
Ah, do not now our child require:
Or taking whom Thy mercy gave,
Indulge us with a common grave.

There let our mingled ashes lie,
Where no forlorn survivors sigh,
Where none their ravish'd joys deplore,
And Rachel weeps her loss no more.

There—but we know not what to say,
Father, aright we cannot pray—
But Jesus reads the troubled breast—
O let His bowels speak the rest!

C. [Saviour, till Thou declare Thy will]

Saviour, till Thou declare Thy will,
Thy providential mind reveal,
And charge us to submit,
May we not humbly persevere
In pleading for a life so dear,
In weeping at Thy feet?

120

Foolish, and blind to what is best,
We urge, yet check our fond request,
With resignation cry,
Save him—the vessel of Thy grace,
Save him—and for Thy glory raise,
While at the point to die.

Thou didst not blame the father's prayer,
Beseeching Thee his son to spare
Just gasping out his breath:
Thy mercy hasten'd to his aid,
Thy love the parting spirit stay'd,
And rescued him from death.

Another in distress and pain,
Did he apply to Thee in vain,
In vain for succour groan?
Thy pity felt Thy creature's grief,
Removed his helpless unbelief,
And gave him back his son.

Thou couldst not, Lord, Thy help deny,
Regardless of a mother's cry
For her own child oppress'd:
With pleasing importunity
She wrestled, and obtain'd of Thee
Her violent request.

Thy mercy evermore the same
For our afflicted child we claim
Whose dying weight we bear,
Unanswer'd still our suit repeat,
And cry for mercy at Thy feet
In agony of prayer.

121

Thou dost not yet relief afford,
Or speak one comfortable word
In our extreme distress,
As seeming to condemn our fears,
And frown in silence at our tears,
And hide Thy angry face.

Answer, Thou suffering Son of man,
May we not patiently complain,
And feel our threaten'd loss,
Under so huge a burden stoop,
Or deprecate the bitter cup,
Or faint beneath the cross?

Thy mild humanity Divine
Shall help us meekly to resign,
If Thou resume Thine own:
We trust in that tremendous hour,
To say, through love's almighty power,
Thy sovereign will be done.

But if our cry hath reach'd Thy heart,
If still the Man of griefs Thou art,
The Friend of misery,
Thou wilt restore our heart's desire,
With strength to give him back entire
A sacrifice to Thee.

CI.

[Love Divine, the' afflicted see]

Love Divine, the' afflicted see,
Moved with our infirmity,
Once Thyself a Man of grief,
Hasten, Lord, to our relief.

122

Mindful of Thy suffering days,
Now as then replete with grace,
Good Physician, bow the skies,
Come before our infant dies.

Present in Thy balmy power,
Thou canst suddenly restore,
By a word the dying save;
Speak, and snatch him from the grave.

Touching this we both agree,
If Thy blessed will it be,
Now the burning fever chide,
Turn the dart of death aside.

If Thou dost our sorrows share,
Children in Thy bosom bear,
Help an innocent oppress'd,
Give to Thy beloved rest.

While we yet invoke Thy name,
Quench the life-devouring flame;
While we a sad vigil keep,
Grant him in Thy arms to sleep.

Thou his feebleness sustain,
Pity, and assuage his pain,
Thou whose tender mercies are
Kinder than a father's care.

Listening to his plaintive moan,
Make his every grief Thine own,
Thou whose yearning bowels move
Softer than a mother's love.

Need we then prescribe to Thee
Clothed with our humanity,
Succour with impatience crave,
Urge Salvation's self to save?

123

No: we have our suit made known;
Now let all Thy will be done:
Do whate'er Thy Spirit requests,
Do whate'er Thy heart suggests.

University of Virginia Library

PRAYERS FOR A SICK CHILD.

XCVII.

[Righteous, O God, are all Thy ways!]

XCVIII.

[Thou God who hear'st the prayer]

XCIX.

[Father, Thy froward children spare]

C.

[Saviour, till Thou declare Thy will]

CI.

[Love Divine, the' afflicted see]