Poem: Here in the Midst of the Church of Wells

Here in the midst of the Church of Wells
Of good fruit, brotherly love, the doctrine of Christ I must tell:
Stronger than ever I have clung to His atonement by grace through faith...
Holding fast to Christ, laying hold of eternal life, ready lamps garnished with oil we do make.
Forsaken, buried under heaps of Satanic slander we do pray
for reawakening of the sleeping bride, for revival of the New Covenant among the regenerate, yes, before Him these we lay.
Righteous judgments, mercy and love, these do we seek to render.
Tenderly and violently slay the carnal soul of the pretender
that in the end the flesh may be destroyed and the spirit spared.
The eternal Lordship of the only Potentate who dwells in unapproachable light these saints have declared.
His peace and love within me do daily grow, no mistake have I made in coming here.
There is no where else I would rather be than with His disciples who have counted the cost for Him alone must I fear.
Poor and needy lost souls, and distressed, discontented, and indebted saints do stream to this city
for the great Shepherd of the sheep, starved and scattered on the hills, He does lead with great pity.
Among the princes of His people, His elders over His flock, we see Him exulted and ascended
for these do watch over our souls, laboring to present every man perfect, yes, it is possible, for His Spirit has descended.
We call out for judgment, we bear the burden of the LORD
that this generation of saints may not perish in the way but return by the power of His WORD.