To guard the elect of mankind.
“Their worship no interval knows;
Their fervour is still on the wing;
And, while they protect my repose,
They chant to the praise of my King.
I, too, at the season ordained,
Their chorus forever shall join,
And love and adore without end,
Their gracious Creator and mine.”
We have noticed in a previous chapter that when Whitefield separated himself from Wesley, the Revival took two distinctly different routes. We only refer to this again for the purpose of remarking that as Toplady was intensely Calvinistic in his method of Divine grace, so his hymns, also, reflect in all its fulness that creed; yet they are full of tenderness, and well calculated frequently to arouse dormant devotion. “Your harps, ye trembling saints;” “Emptied of earth I fain would be;” “When languor and disease invade;” “Jesus, immutably the same;” “A debtor to mercy alone,” and many another, leave nothing to be desired either on the score of devotion, poetry, or melody.