Wesley Corpus

The Lamb from the throne Of his Father came down, He was flesh of our flesh, he was bone of our bone: The omnipotent Lord By all heaven ador'd The invisible Godhead appear'd in the Word. With the children of men Jehovah was seen, Thro' the veil of our dignified nature between; The Antient of days Discover'd his face, And admitted his angels with rapture to gaze. Who gave all things to be What a wonder to see Him born of his creature, and nurst on her knee! The infant divine (Let all creatures combine To acknowledge the grace) was as helpless as mine! For a Sick Child.27 Father, God of pitying love, Let thy yearning bowels move, Let thine ear attend our cry, Help before our infant die. Hear her help-imploring groan, Pain'd with sorrows not her own, Bruis'd alas, for our offence Save her suffering innocence. Whom but now thy mercy gave Keep her from the gaping grave, Whom thy love persists to give, Let her for thy glory live. 26Ori., "LXXII." Hymns LXXII to LXXXVI have also been corrected. 27This poem was written concerning the illness of Charles and Sarah's second child, Martha Maria. Page 74 But if thou foreknow'st it best Not to grant our blind request, Snatch her from a length of pain, Take her to thine arms again. Now her spotless soul remove To the innocents above, To her kindred in the skies, To an early paradise. Only while she hence departs, Let her carry up our hearts, Rend them, as she rends her clay, Tear them far from earth away. Far above the world of pain Let our souls with her's remain, Far above its comforts soar, Stoop to earthly bliss no more. On Her Death. 28 Lovely-fair, but breathless clay, Whither is thy tenant gone? Would the soul no longer stay Prisoner in a world unknown? Surfeited with life and pain, Is she fled to heaven again? Wherefore did she visit earth, Earth so suddenly to leave, Gaul'd and burthen'd from the birth, Only born to cry and grieve? What was all her life below? One sad month of fruitless woe. Count we now our mournful gains, We who call'd the child our own: Lo, she pays her mother's pains With her last expiring groan: 28This poem was written on the death of Charles and Sarah's second child, Martha Maria.