The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley

True is the oracle Divine,
The sentence which Thy lips hath pass'd,
Though hand in hand the wicked join,
They shall not, Lord, escape at last;
Who for a while triumphant seem,
Cursed with their own false hearts' desire,
Their empire is a fleeting dream,
Their hopes shall all in smoke expire.

Surely Thou wilt full vengeance take
On rebels 'gainst their king and God,
And strictest inquisition make
For rivers spill'd of guiltless blood,
By men who take Thy name in vain,
By fiends in sanctity's disguise,
As Thou wert served with nations slain,
Or pleased with human sacrifice.

Thou know'st Thine own appointed time
The' ungodly homicides to quell,
Chastise their complicated crime,
And break their covenant with hell;
Thy plagues shall then o'erwhelm them all,
From proud ambition's summit driven;
And faith foresees the' usurpers fall
As Lucifer cast down from heaven.

Yet if they have not sinn'd the sin
Which never can obtain Thy grace,
When Tophet yawns to take them in,
And claims them as their proper place,

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The authors of our woes forgive,
And snatch their souls from endless woes,
Who wouldst that all mankind should live,
Who diedst Thyself to save Thy foes.

University of Virginia Library

HYMN VIII. A PRAYER FOR THE CONGRESS.