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| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
 | V. |
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| II. |
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| CXIII. |
| CXIV. |
| CXV. |
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| CXVII. |
| CXVIII. |
| CXIX. |
| CXX. |
| CXXI. |
| CXXII. |
| CXXIII. |
| CXXIV. |
| CXXV. |
| CXXVI. |
| CXXVII. |
| CXXVIII. |
| CXXIX. |
| CXXX. |
| CXXXI. |
| CXXXII. |
| CXXXIII. |
| CXXXIV. |
| CXXXV. |
| CXXXVI. |
| CXXXVII. |
| CXXXVIII. |
| CXXXIX. |
| CXL. |
| CXLI. |
| CXLII. |
| CXLIII. |
| CXLIV. |
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| CXLVI. |
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| CXLIX. |
| CL. |
| CLI. |
| CLII. |
| CLIII. |
| CLIV. |
| CLV. |
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| CLXIX. |
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| CLXXII. |
| CLXXIII. |
| CLXXIV. |
| CLXXV. |
| CLXXVI. |
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| CLXXXIX. |
| CXC. |
| CXCI. |
| CXCII. |
| CXCIII. |
| CXCIV. |
| CXCV. |
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| CC. |
| CCI. |
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| CCVI. |
| CCVII. |
| CCVIII. |
| CCIX. |
| II. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
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| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
 | The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley |  |
AFTER A RELAPSE INTO SIN.
Jesu, wherewith shall I draw near,
What shall I for acceptance bring?
How in my Judge's sight appear
A rebel 'gainst my God and King?
Loudly my sins for vengeance cry,
And justice wills that I should die.
What shall I for acceptance bring?
How in my Judge's sight appear
A rebel 'gainst my God and King?
Loudly my sins for vengeance cry,
And justice wills that I should die.
109
Summon'd to answer at Thy bar,
I come, but “Guilty, guilty” plead!
Did I not all Thy judgments dare?
On all Thy tender mercies tread?
Death's sentence justly I receive;
I am not worthy, Lord, to live.
I come, but “Guilty, guilty” plead!
Did I not all Thy judgments dare?
On all Thy tender mercies tread?
Death's sentence justly I receive;
I am not worthy, Lord, to live.
Then let me every good resign,
And give my forfeit blessings back;
My gifts and blessings were not mine;
Thou, only Thou, the glory take:
I might have heard Thy frequent call;
I might have stood, though now I fall.
And give my forfeit blessings back;
My gifts and blessings were not mine;
Thou, only Thou, the glory take:
I might have heard Thy frequent call;
I might have stood, though now I fall.
Long did Thy loving Spirit strive
To win me over to my good;
The spark of grace was kept alive
For years amidst temptation's flood:
I now have sinn'd it all away,
And ended is my gracious day.
To win me over to my good;
The spark of grace was kept alive
For years amidst temptation's flood:
I now have sinn'd it all away,
And ended is my gracious day.
An alien from the life Divine,
The covenant of promised grace,
Saviour, no more I call Thee mine;
An outcast from Thy blissful face,
Without or faith, or joy, or hope,
I give (but must I give) Thee up?
The covenant of promised grace,
Saviour, no more I call Thee mine;
An outcast from Thy blissful face,
Without or faith, or joy, or hope,
I give (but must I give) Thee up?
Yes: with my shield of faith I part;
My hope is lost in just despair;
Love is not in my stony heart,
It cannot be, while sin is there;
My vain pretensions sin disproves;
He cannot sin who Jesus loves.
My hope is lost in just despair;
Love is not in my stony heart,
It cannot be, while sin is there;
My vain pretensions sin disproves;
He cannot sin who Jesus loves.
110
No choice, endeavour, or desire,
Motion, or will have I to turn;
Extinguish'd is the trembling fire
Which once in me began to burn:
What have I now whereof to boast?
My all is gone, my God is lost.
Motion, or will have I to turn;
Extinguish'd is the trembling fire
Which once in me began to burn:
What have I now whereof to boast?
My all is gone, my God is lost.
See then the sinner stript of all,
A foe, and hater of his God;
Despairing, self-condemn'd I fall,
Of every spark of goodness void;
I cannot now for mercy groan,
Or offer Thee an heart of stone.
A foe, and hater of his God;
Despairing, self-condemn'd I fall,
Of every spark of goodness void;
I cannot now for mercy groan,
Or offer Thee an heart of stone.
My mouth is stopp'd, and guilty now
Before my Judge I am become:
Lo! at Thy judgment-seat I bow;
O God of love, pronounce my doom;
And, if Thy yearning heart permit,
Now, Saviour, slay me at Thy feet.
Before my Judge I am become:
Lo! at Thy judgment-seat I bow;
O God of love, pronounce my doom;
And, if Thy yearning heart permit,
Now, Saviour, slay me at Thy feet.
| The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | |