The life and times of the Rev. Samuel Wesley: Rector of Epworth and father of the Revs. John and Charles Wesley, the founders of the MethodistsTyerman, L. (Luke)
History
The life and times of the Rev. Samuel Wesley: Rector of Epworth and father of the Revs. John and Charles Wesley, the founders of the Methodists
Tyerman, L. (Luke)
Church of England -- Clergy -- Biography; Wesley, Samuel, 1662-1735
The next day, as he was walking in his garden, and mournfully surveying
the ruins of his house, he descried part of a leaf of his Polyglott
Bible, on which the only words legible were: “Vade, vende omnia quae
habes, et attolle crucem, et sequere me.” “Go, sell all that thou hast;
and take up thy cross, and follow me.”
The house, the furniture, and the rector’s library were burnt; but
perhaps the severest loss, at least to posterity, was the destruction of
manuscripts. This included Mr Wesley’s long-continued literary
correspondence, the writings of his wife, and many important papers
relative to the Annesley family, and particularly to Dr Annesley
himself;—papers which the doctor had intrusted to Mrs Wesley as his best
beloved child. Besides these, all the sermons of the rector were
consumed, and likewise a large and important manuscript on Hebrew
poetry, in which he had turned the book of Psalms, and all the Hebrew
hymns in the Pentateuch, and in the book of Judges, into verse.
A few small mementoes of this terrible calamity were preserved, and
among others a hymn, written by Samuel Wesley, with music adapted,
probably by Henry Purcell or Dr Blow. This hymn is the only one, by the
rector of Epworth, that finds a place in the Methodist Hymn-Book, and
there even it is curtailed. We present it to the reader complete.
“Behold the Saviour of mankind
Nail’d to the shameful tree!
How vast the love that Him inclined
To bleed and die for thee!
“Though far unequal our low praise
To Thy vast sufferings prove,
O Lamb of God, thus all our days
Thus will we grieve and love.
“Hark, how He groans! while nature shakes,
And earth’s strong pillars bend;
The temple’s veil in sunder breaks;
The solid marbles rend.
“’Tis done! the precious ransom’s paid;
“Receive My soul,” He cries:
See where He bows His sacred head!
He bows His head and dies!
“But soon he’ll break death’s envious chain,
And in full glory shine:
O Lamb of God! was ever pain,
Was ever love like Thine!
“Thy loss our ruins did repair,
Death, by Thy death, is slain;
Thou wilt at length exalt us where
Thou dost in glory reign.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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