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If his life a snare would prove,
Rob us of thy heavenly love,
Steal our hearts from God away,
Mercy will not let him stay.

If his life would matter raise
Of thine everlasting praise,
More his Saviour glorify,
Mercy will not let him die.

For the purpose of soothing the feelings of his bereaved wife, still enfeebled by disease, and of rendering the loss of their son subservient to her spiritual benefit, Mr. Charles Wesley wrote the following hymn, which he entitled, “A mother's act of resignation on the death of a child :"

Peace, my heart, be calm, be still,
Subject to my Father's will !
God, in Jesus reconciled,
Calls for his beloved child ;
Who on me himself bestow'd
Claims the purchase of his blood.

Child of prayer, by grace divine
Him I willingly resign,
Through his last convulsive throes
Born into the true repose ;
Born into the world above,
Glorious world of light and love.

Through the purple fountain brought,
To his Saviour's bosom caught,
Him in the pure mantle clad,
In the milk-white robe array'd,
Follower of the Lamb I see;
See the joy prepared for me!

Lord, for this alone I stay,
Fit me for eternal day;
Then thou wilt receive thy bride
To the souls beatified ;
Then with all thy saints I meet,
Then my rapture is complete.

But Mr. Charles Wesley's most remarkable poetical composition, written upon this mournful and joyous occasion, was a hymn in eight parts, containing fifty-one stanzas, of six lines each, in which he gives full vent to his own deep and irrepressible feelings. It forms a perfect contrast to the calm and soothing verses which he put into the mouth of his sorrowing and enfeebled wife. Here the poet, the father, the husband, the man of God, are seen to the greatest advantage. He begins in the language of passionate regret; he offers thanksgivings to God for the mother's preservation; he celebrates the child's escape from all the toils, the sorrows, the perils of life, and his admission into the company of the heavenly harpers; and in all the confidence and joy of hope, he anticipates his own glorification, and that of the mother, with their sainted child; praying, at the same time, for a sanctified use of the bereavement. The

ne; and the parents now take God alone for their portion. The following specimens are given. Who can read the touching lines without tears ? Who can see the secrets of a generous and sanctified nature disclosed, without admiration and love?

infant was

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Look down, thou happy spirit, look down,

An eye of pitying love let fall
On us, who long to share thy crown,

Who for that spotless mantle call,
In which thou shalt for ever shine,
The robe of righteousness divine.

Great King of saints, to thee alone

For mercy and for grace we pray : Thy glorious grace hath saved the son,

The parents next to heaven convey, Thy power and goodness to adore, Where death and parting is no more.

Jesus, our sole support thou art,

Our only hope in deep distress ;
Thy comforts calm the troubled heart;

And, cheer'd by thy victorious grace,
The mourner gives her wailings o'er,
And Rachel weeps her loss no more.

Who weeping build our infant's tomb,

With joy we hasten to our own : That happiest day will quickly come,

When we shall lay our burden down, When loosed from earth our souls shall soar, And find whom we shall lose no more.

No human heart can e'er conceive

The transports of our meeting there,
Where pure departed spirits live,

Where one we fondly deem'd our heir,
To full angelic stature grown,
Inherits an immortal crown.

Arrived above, the stranger stands,

Encompass’d with acclaiming quires ; He hears, and waves his plausive hands,

Transported with the harpers' lyres, Expands his tuneful soul to prove The' harmonious powers of heavenly love.

Angels, rejoice! a child is born

Into your happier world above !
Let poor short-sighted mortals mourn,

While on the wings of heavenly love
An everlasting spirit flies,
To claim his kindred in the skies.

His few sad days of guiltless pain

Are all irrevocably gone ; Escaped from earth without a stain,

My heart's desire, my darling son, Hath first attain'd his endless rest, Hath reach'd his heavenly Father's breast.

And shall I for his bliss repine ?

And shall I for his absence grieve?
Or rather bless the choice divine ;

With awful joy and thanks receive
The period of my countless cares,
The answer of my thousand prayers ?

My prayers are seal'd, my child is fled,

Is safe on that eternal shore : No longer I his dangers dread,

The poisonous world's bewitching power, The charms of sin, the tempter's art, The fondness of a parent's heart.

No more my eyes with tears o'erflow,

No more in deep distress I pray,
“Ah! save my child from endless woe;

Ah! take him from the evil day;
Nor let the man his God deny ;
Nor let him live to sin, and die ! ”

'Tis finish'd ! all his course of pain !

'Tis finish'd! all our task of care ! We turn us to our rest again, In solemn praise, and humble

prayer For lo ! our awful office ends; For lo ! our sacred charge ascends !

The child of whom we seem bereaved,

Whom feeble flesh would still deplore,
Our heavenly Father hath received,

And kindly bids us weep no more ;
But cheerfully his loan resign,
And leave him in the arms divine.

Father, we make thy deed our own,

Submissive to thy wisest choice ; Though nature give a parting groan,

Our spirits shall in thee rejoice, And thankfully at last approve The' appointments of eternal love.

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