 | The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley |  |
XII. THE INWARD CROSS.
O my dear Master, and my Lord,
Good is Thine acceptable will,
I yield obeisance to Thy word,
I come, Thy humbled state to feel,
My calling here I plainly see,
To bear, and bleed, and die with Thee.
Good is Thine acceptable will,
I yield obeisance to Thy word,
I come, Thy humbled state to feel,
My calling here I plainly see,
To bear, and bleed, and die with Thee.
Sufferer for sin my Master was,
A Man of griefs, inured to woe,
I bow me to Thine inward cross,
Sad fellowship with Thee I know:
Thou for another's sin didst groan,
And shall not I lament mine own?
A Man of griefs, inured to woe,
I bow me to Thine inward cross,
Sad fellowship with Thee I know:
Thou for another's sin didst groan,
And shall not I lament mine own?
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Yes, Lord, I drink Thy bitter cup
Of grief, astonishment, and pain;
I fill Thy sore afflictions up,
I faint Thy burden to sustain,
My spirit sweats Thy sweat of blood,
And gasping calls “My God, my God!”
Of grief, astonishment, and pain;
I fill Thy sore afflictions up,
I faint Thy burden to sustain,
My spirit sweats Thy sweat of blood,
And gasping calls “My God, my God!”
My spirit by Thy pangs is torn,
While Thou art pleased my faith to try;
For Thee disconsolate I mourn,
And still repeat Thy bitter cry,
“My God, my God,” I cry like Thee,
Ah! “why hast Thou forsaken me!”
While Thou art pleased my faith to try;
For Thee disconsolate I mourn,
And still repeat Thy bitter cry,
“My God, my God,” I cry like Thee,
Ah! “why hast Thou forsaken me!”
Abandon'd to the tempter's power,
Still on Thy daily cross I bleed,
Till all the rage of hell is o'er,
Till all my nature's life is dead;
Then, then my utmost wish I have,
And sink into my Saviour's grave.
Still on Thy daily cross I bleed,
Till all the rage of hell is o'er,
Till all my nature's life is dead;
Then, then my utmost wish I have,
And sink into my Saviour's grave.
I sink with Thee, with Thee to rise,
Thy quick'ning Spirit to regain,
To' insure my calling's heavenly prize,
And suffer with my Lord to reign,
Thy resurrection's power to prove,
And live the life of perfect love.
Thy quick'ning Spirit to regain,
To' insure my calling's heavenly prize,
And suffer with my Lord to reign,
Thy resurrection's power to prove,
And live the life of perfect love.
| The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | |