Wesley Corpus

Hymn X Source: Hymns on God's Everlasting Love (1742) Author: Charles Wesley --- Jesu, thy word is past! The grace Unspeakable is come to all: Restor'd by thee the fallen race May all recover from their fall; From earth thou hast been lifted up, That all the ends of earth might hope. The sure, irrevocable word Hath no one soul of man pass'd by, We all may claim the common Lord, Not one is forc'd, or left to die: Say thou, if all may come to thee? "I will draw all men unto me!" But hath thy love excepted none? But wouldst thou draw us all to God? Didst thou for the whole world atone? Have all an int'rest in thy blood? Say, if thy grace for all is free? "I will draw all men unto me." But dost thou give thy special grace, Sufficient all the world to save? Dost thou not hide from half the race What none but the elect can have? "The grace that brings salvation near, Doth once to all mankind appear." And canst thou, Lord, incline our heart, And draw us to thyself in vain, And then compel us to depart, And thrust us into endless pain? "I am not willing one should die, Why, sinners, will ye perish, why?" But if thy written word be true, And thou art willing to save all, Why do not all the track pursue, And listen to th' effectual call? Why do not all thy grace receive? "They will not come to me, and live." All MIGHT be sav'd, but all are not, For all will not thy call obey, The grace that once salvation brought, Self-harden'd sinners cast away, They would not see the way of peace, But forc'd the Spirit's strife to cease. They would not the pure truth receive, Sav'd, when they might, they would not be, God therefore left them to believe The devil's Horrible Decree: And lo! They still believe a lie, That God did nine in ten pass by. In them the strong delusion reigns, That none but they in Christ have hope, The poison spreads throughout their veins, And drinks their angry spirits up; "Let all but us in Tophet dwell, Away with reprobates to hell." The spirit of their father speaks; The lion roaring for his prey, The reprobating lion seeks Unstable souls to tear and slay. Fly, sinners, fly the fowler's snare, Satan and all his depths, are there. Hear the old hellish murderer roar, "For all the Saviour did not die, For only you, and not one more, My children, who believe my lie." His children answer to his call, And shout, "Christ did not die for all." O God of love, lay to thine hand, And bruise him underneath our feet, No longer let his doctrine stand, But chase it to its native pit; There only let the fiend declare, And preach his other gospel there.