Wesley Corpus

Fly, happy spirit, fly Beyond this gloomy sky! Thee our prayers no more detain, Thee our grief recalls no more; Leave a while thy friends in pain, Land on that eternal shore. 'Tis done, the soul is fled, The earthy part is dead! Dead is that which wish'd to die, That which gaul'd the soul within, Dead the sense of misery, Dead the seed of death and sin. No pangs of loss or care Shall now thy bosom tear, Anguish and severe disease, Agony and death are past; Now the weary is at peace, Peace, which shall for ever last. Yes, thou hast found an home Where want can never come: Nabal cannot drive thee thence, From thy bosom friends disjoin: Sure is that inheritance, Spite of hell for ever thine. Expos'd to want and woe By thine own flesh below, Will thy relatives above Thee by their unkindness grieve? Angels cannot scorn thy love, God cannot his daughter leave. 18Manuscript versions of this hymn appear in MS Richmond, 139-41; and MS Six, 26-27. They specify that this is Mary Leyson (1721-50), a cousin of Sarah (Gwynne) Wesley. She died April 12, Page 23 Thou hast, from earth convey'd, A place to lay thy head: Lull'd on thy Redeemer's breast, Who cannot lament for thee, Thee in God supremely blest, Blest thro' all eternity. Yet on thy virgin-bier We drop a tender tear, For ourselves, alas! We mourn, Still by various sorrows pain'd, Still by furious passions torn, Midst the toils of hell detain'd. When, dearest soul, shall we Escape and follow thee, Meekly bow our dying head, Gladly from our labour cease, Ready for the Bridegroom made, Ripe for everlasting bliss? Bridegroom of souls, reply, And bring redemption nigh, Object of our glorious hope, Come and change our faith to sight, Come and take thy mourners up, Rank us with thy saints in light. Hymn XIII. On the Death of Mrs. Grace Bowen,19 January 2, 1755. Part I.