 | I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
 | IX. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| 819. |
| 820. |
| 821. |
| 822. |
| 823. |
| 824. |
| 825. |
| 826. |
| 827. |
| 828. |
| 829. |
| 830. |
| 831. |
| 832. |
| 833. |
| 834. |
| 835. |
| 836. |
| 837. |
| 838. |
| 839. |
| 840. |
| 841. |
| 842. |
| 843. |
| 844. |
| 845. |
| 846. |
| 847. |
| 848. |
| 849. |
| 850. |
| 851. |
| 852. |
| 853. |
| 854. |
| 855. |
| 856. |
| 857. |
| 858. |
| 859. |
| 860. |
| 861. |
| 862. |
| 863. |
| 864. |
| 865. |
| 866. |
| 867. |
| 868. |
| 869. |
| 870. |
| 871. |
| 872. |
| 873. |
| 874. |
| 875. |
| 876. |
| 877. |
| 878. |
| 879. |
| 880. |
| 881. |
| 882. |
| 883. |
| 884. |
| 885. |
| 886. |
| 887. |
| 888. |
| 889. |
| 890. |
| 891. |
| 892. |
| 893. |
| 894. |
| 895. |
| 896. |
| 897. |
| 898. |
| 899. |
| 900. |
| 901. |
| 902. |
| 903. |
| 904. |
| 905. |
| 906. |
| 907. |
| 908. |
| 909. |
| 910. |
| 911. |
| 912. |
| 913. |
| 914. |
| 915. |
| 916. |
| 917. |
| 918. |
| 919. |
| 920. |
| 921. |
| 922. |
| 923. |
| 924. |
| 925. |
| 926. |
| 927. |
| 928. |
| 929. |
| 930. |
| 931. |
| 932. |
| 933. |
| 934. |
| 935. |
| 936. |
| 937. |
| 938. |
| 939. |
| 940. |
| 941. |
| 942. |
| 943. |
| 944. |
| 945. |
| 946. |
| 947. |
| 948. |
| 949. |
| 950. |
| 951. |
| 952. |
| 953. |
| 954. |
| 955. |
| 956. |
| 957. |
| 958. |
| 959. |
| 960. |
| 961. |
| 962. |
| 963. |
| 964. |
| 965. |
| 966. |
| 967. |
| 968. |
| 969. |
| 970. |
| 971. |
| 972. |
| 973. |
| 974. |
| 975. |
| 976. |
| 977. |
| 978. |
| 979. |
| 980. |
| 981. |
| 982. |
| 983. |
| 984. |
| 985. |
| 986. |
| 987. |
| 988. |
|
|
|
|
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
 | The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley |  |
1259.
[High on Thy heavenly throne]
To this man will I look, even to him, &c.
—lxvi. 2.
High on Thy heavenly throne,
O look with pity down,
To an abject sinner look,
One that on Thy footstool lies!
Help me, Lord, my heart is broke:
Save, or now my spirit dies.
O look with pity down,
To an abject sinner look,
One that on Thy footstool lies!
Help me, Lord, my heart is broke:
Save, or now my spirit dies.
My soul, Thou know'st, is faint,
Ready to die for want;
Still I tremble at Thy word,
“Damn'd the infidel shall be!”
Come my long-expected Lord,
Work the saving faith in me.
Ready to die for want;
Still I tremble at Thy word,
“Damn'd the infidel shall be!”
Come my long-expected Lord,
Work the saving faith in me.
Now let Thy look inspire
My soul with pure desire;
Life into my heart convey,
Chase my evil with Thine eyes,
Look these fears and sins away,
Look me up to paradise.
My soul with pure desire;
Life into my heart convey,
Chase my evil with Thine eyes,
Look these fears and sins away,
Look me up to paradise.
| The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | |