Wesley Corpus

Isaiah 64 Source: Hymns and Sacred Poems (1740), Part I Author: Charles Wesley (attributed) --- When the number is fulfill’d When the witnesses are kill’d, When we all from earth are driven, Then with us ye mount to heaven. Jesu hear, and bow the skies, Hark! We all unite our cries, “Take us to our heavenly home, Quickly let thy kingdom come!” “Jesu come,” the Spirit cries, “Jesu come,” the bride replies; One triumphant church above, Join us all in perfect love. Isaiah lxiv.84 O that thou would’st the heavens rend! O that thou would’st this hour come down! Descend, Almighty God, descend, And strongly vindicate thine own! Now let the heathens fear thy name, Now let the world thy nature know, Dart into all the melting flame Of love, and make the mountains flow. O let thine indignation burn, The lightning of thy judgments glare, Th’ aspiring confidence o’erturn Of all that still thine anger dare. 84Also printed at the end of John Wesley’s extract of William Law’s A Serious Answer to Dr. Trapp’s Four Sermons (Cork: Harrison, 1748), 61-63. From heaven reveal thy vengeful ire, Thy fury let the nations prove, Confess thee a consuming fire, And tremble, till they feel thy love. Thy power was to our fathers known, A mighty God, and terrible; In majesty thou camest down, The mountains at thy presence fell. The wonders thou for them hast wrought Thy boundless power and love proclaim, Far above all they ask’d or thought: And now we wait to know thy name. We wait; for since the world began To men it ne’er by men was shew’d: Thou only canst thyself explain, God only sounds the depths of God. Eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard, By heart conceiv’d it cannot be, The bliss thou hast for him prepar’d, Who waits in humble faith for thee. Thou meetest him that dares rejoice In hope of thy salvation near; Who wants, while he obeys thy voice, The perfect love that casts out fear. In works of righteousness employ’d Who thee remembers in thy ways, The ORDINANCES of his God, The sacred channels of thy grace. But lo! Thy anger kindled is, And justly might for ever burn; We have forsook the path of peace: How shall our wand’ring souls return? In thine appointed ways we wait, The ways thy wisdom hath enjoin’d; Thy saving grace we here shall meet, If every one that seeks shall find. Nor can we thus thy wrath appease; We and our works are all unclean, As filthy rags our righteousness, Our good is ill, our virtue sin. Like wither’d leaves we fade away, We all deserve thy wrath to feel, Swift as the wind our sins convey, And sweep our guilty souls to hell. Not one will call upon thy name, Stir himself up thy grace to see, The Lord his righteousness to claim, And boldly to take hold on thee. For O! Thy face is turn’d aside, Since we refus’d t’ obey thy will; Thou hast consum’d us for our pride, Thy heavy hand consumes us still. But art thou not our Father now? Our Father now thou surely art: Humbly beneath thy frown we bow, We seek thee with a trembling heart. The potter thou, and we the clay; Behold us at thy footstool laid, In anger cast us not away, The creatures whom thy hands have made. O let thine anger rage no more, Remember not iniquity; See, Lord, and all our sins pass o’er, Thy own peculiar people see. Jerusalem in ruins lies, A wilderness thy cities are; A den of thieves thy temple is, No longer now the house of prayer. Where humbly low our fathers bow’d, And thee with joyful lips ador’d, Idolaters profanely croud, And take the altar for its Lord.