Wesley Corpus

Arm of the Lord, awake, awake, Thine own resistless strength put on, Preserve him for thine Israel's sake, To make thy power, and mercy known, Thy church t' exalt, thy foes to shame, And spread thro' earth thy saving name. Hymn XIII. For the Same For the King of Prussia. While yet we call, the prayer is seal'd, Thou answerest "Here am I to save!" Thou hast thy faithful word fulfill'd, Thy sovereign nod the victory gave, Whate'er subservient causes join, O King of kings, the work is thine. Thee let thy prosperous servant own, Sole author of his strange success, Who liftest up, and castest down, But dost with all thy blessings bless The man that in his Maker trusts, And glories in the Lord of hosts. Rais'd up thro' thee the righteous man, Call'd to thy foot, and girt by thee, Bid him a second Cyrus reign, And execute thy whole decree; Kings to his sword as dust bestow, As driven stubble to his bow. Whom thou dost for thy glory chuse, Arm, and uphold with thy right hand: The loins of hostile monarchs loose, Nations subdue to his command, While nought his rapid course can stay, Nor earth, nor hell obstruct his way. Page 14 Before thy chosen servant go, Thine utmost counsel to fulfil, And when his work is done below, And when he hath perform'd thy will, Turn on him, Lord, thy son embrace, And shew him all thy glorious face. Hymn XIV. For the Same For the King of Prussia. Still in the arms of faith and prayer, (The prayer that shuts and opens heaven) Thy champion to thy throne we bear; To him the farther grace be given: Sav'd from his foes, persist to bless, And save him from his own success. While distant climes resound his name, And raise his glory to the skies, O might he all the praise disclaim, Little, and mean in his own eyes, And prostrate in the dust submit To lay his lawrels at thy feet. Far from his generous bosom chase That cruel insolence of power, Which tramples on the human race, Restless to have, and conquer more, While bold above the clouds t' ascend, The hero sinks into a fiend.