Wesley Corpus

For this ye sinners howl and cry, Your broken hearts and voices join, With sackcloth girt, in ashes lie, And groan to bear the wrath divine. The wrath divine doth fiercely burn, Doth still on all our souls abide, Nor will he from his anger turn, Nor will our God be pacified. Horror shall every heart assail, And sore distress, and huge dismay, Prophets and priests and kings shall fail Astonished in that dreadful day. Hymn IX. The Fourth Chapter of Jeremiah. Part III. O God, thou hast deceiv'd our hope, Our surest hope of lasting peace, Hast given thy wretched people up, And scourg'd us for our wickedness; Abandon'd to the slaughtering sword, We bear the fury of the Lord. My furious wrath they still shall know: And lo! A mighty scattering wind Shall from the barren mountains blow, And sweep to hell the faithless kind, Their lives I will no more reprieve, But now the final sentence give. The spoiler as a cloud shall rise, The whole devoted land o'erspread: His chariot as a whirlwind flies, His horses match the eagle's speed; Page 14 Alas for us! Shall Sion say, To all our foes an helpless prey! O Sion, wash thy heart from sin, So shalt thou my salvation see: How long shall evil lodge within The temple that belongs to me? Thy vain designs and thoughts remove, T' admit the God of pard'ning love. For lo! A voice with awful sound Declares the scourge and judgment near, Go, call the hostile nations round, Before Jerusalem t' appear, Summon from far th' embattled powers, To shout against her trembling towers. Her watchful foe shall keep her in, And close besiege on every side, Chastise the rebels for their sin: Because thou hast my wrath defi'd, Refus'd to tremble at my frown, And forc'd my ling'ring judgments down. Thy doings have procur'd the woe, And pull'd it on thy guilty head: The fatal cause with horror know, Thy sin in thy chastisement read, Feel in the bitter, penal smart, The evil of the life and heart. Hymn X. The Fourth Chapter of Jeremiah. Part IV. My bowels yearn with deep distress, My heart is pain'd, and mourns within, My soul laments, and cannot cease, Alarm'd by war's perpetual din, Page 15 My soul forestalls the general wound, And dies to hear the trumpet's sound.