Wesley Corpus

Volume 7 (1784): 337-38 On the Death of Mrs. Pawson49 Our friend hath dropt her cumb'rous clay, And joyful soars the shining way, While kindred spirits spread their wings, And bear her to the King of kings. Long had she known the Saviour's love, And fix'd her heart on things above: Long had she run with even pace, A painful not uncertain race. With various gifts and graces fraught, By the unerring Spirit taught, She warn'd, allur'd, with fervent zeal, Nor dar'd religion to conceal. Who say the brightness of her face, Admir'd the monument of grace: Herself, not to herself reveal'd, By humble poverty conceal'd. But now she shines in endless light, In all her Father's glory bright: A spotless robe to her is giv'n, And all the glorious joys of heav'n. She sees with joy her Saviour's face, And sings the triumph of his grace; Then casts her crown before his throne, And glory give to God alone. Mortality, thou veil of night, How dost thou now obscure my sight? How dost thou clip my soaring wings, And chain me to inferior things! Yet still I'll bear the port in view, And sav'd by hope my way pursue, Till I shall hear my Saviour say, 49The hymn does not appear among Charles Wesley's surviving manuscripts, but his authorship is probable. The style and many phrases in the poem are common to Wesley (though its metre is less so), and he regularly wrote hymns on the deaths of friends. This hymn is on the death of Grace (Davis) Pawson (1743-83). She was the wife of John Pawson, a Methodist lay preacher. Grace grew up in Bristol and knew the Wesley family there. Rise up my love, and come away. Then shall I join th' immortal throng, And swell the everlasting song: With joy, through endless ages own, All praise belongs to God alone.