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| XIII. |
 | The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley |  |
311
HYMN I.
[Let every prophet cry aloud]
Let every prophet cry aloud,
Lift up the voice, the trumpet blow,
Show their transgressions to the crowd,
The nation's sin to Britons show,
That sin which marks the worst of times,
Which Heaven with most displeasure sees,
Which fills the measure of our crimes,
Profane, extreme ungodliness.
Lift up the voice, the trumpet blow,
Show their transgressions to the crowd,
The nation's sin to Britons show,
That sin which marks the worst of times,
Which Heaven with most displeasure sees,
Which fills the measure of our crimes,
Profane, extreme ungodliness.
Through every rank and order spread;
The poor and rich, the low and high,
Alike disdain their God to dread,
And Him throughout their lives deny;
His laws, through ignorance of Him,
His providence they dare disown,
Neglect, despise, insult, blaspheme,
And all defy the God unknown.
The poor and rich, the low and high,
Alike disdain their God to dread,
And Him throughout their lives deny;
His laws, through ignorance of Him,
His providence they dare disown,
Neglect, despise, insult, blaspheme,
And all defy the God unknown.
312
Their oaths have caused the land to mourn,
The land to its foundations shook,
And still the profligates forsworn
Are blind to the impending stroke;
His outstretch'd arm they will not see,
His thunder's voice they will not hear,
But mock at their calamity,
And triumph in destruction near.
The land to its foundations shook,
And still the profligates forsworn
Are blind to the impending stroke;
His outstretch'd arm they will not see,
His thunder's voice they will not hear,
But mock at their calamity,
And triumph in destruction near.
God is not in their thoughts, or ways;
As Atheists in the world they live,
A cursing, cursed, abandon'd race,
To Satan's will themselves they give,
Daily devote themselves to hell;
And when they in their sins expire,
Convinced, alas, too late, they feel
The real, true, eternal fire.
As Atheists in the world they live,
A cursing, cursed, abandon'd race,
To Satan's will themselves they give,
Daily devote themselves to hell;
And when they in their sins expire,
Convinced, alas, too late, they feel
The real, true, eternal fire.
The pit of bottomless despair
Hath oped its mouth to take them in:
Yet still our nation doth not bear
The utmost penalty of sin.
Some unknown Friend before the throne
To God the just for mercy prays,
And will not let His wrath alone,
To swallow up our impious race.
Hath oped its mouth to take them in:
Yet still our nation doth not bear
The utmost penalty of sin.
Some unknown Friend before the throne
To God the just for mercy prays,
And will not let His wrath alone,
To swallow up our impious race.
A few at this tremendous hour,
Whose faithful prayer doth heaven assail,
One with their Head exert their power,
And wrestling on with God prevail;
Their prayer a longer space supplies,
Their prayer hath power with God, we know,
Who are not lifting up our eyes
With fiends and infidels below.
Whose faithful prayer doth heaven assail,
One with their Head exert their power,
And wrestling on with God prevail;
Their prayer a longer space supplies,
Their prayer hath power with God, we know,
Who are not lifting up our eyes
With fiends and infidels below.
313
God of all grace and patience, hear
The prayer presented through Thy Son,
Who doth our Advocate appear,
Who made our every sin His own:
Justice and us He stands between;
His blood hath quench'd the wrath of heaven,
His blood, which cleanses from all sin,
And speaks a guilty world forgiven.
The prayer presented through Thy Son,
Who doth our Advocate appear,
Who made our every sin His own:
Justice and us He stands between;
His blood hath quench'd the wrath of heaven,
His blood, which cleanses from all sin,
And speaks a guilty world forgiven.
| The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | |