I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
1535. |
1536. |
1537. |
1538. |
1539. |
1540. |
1541. |
1542. |
1543. |
1544. |
1545. |
1546. |
1547. |
1548. |
1549. |
1550. |
1551. |
1552. |
1553. |
1554. |
1555. |
1556. |
1557. |
1558. |
1559. |
1560. |
1561. |
1562. |
1563. |
1564. |
1565. |
1566. |
1567. |
1568. |
1569. |
1570. |
1571. |
1572. |
1573. |
1574. |
1575. |
1576. |
1577. |
1578. |
1579. |
1580. |
1581. |
1582. |
1583. |
1584. |
1585. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | ||
1303.
[I want the weeping prophet's heart]
Oh that my head were waters, and mine eyes, &c.
—ix. 1.
I want the weeping prophet's heart:
O might my Lord to me impart
That bleeding sympathy!
On me, Thou Man of Griefs, bestow
The spring of tears, the depth of woe,
The love that was in Thee.
O might my Lord to me impart
That bleeding sympathy!
On me, Thou Man of Griefs, bestow
The spring of tears, the depth of woe,
The love that was in Thee.
I would our desolate Sion mourn
By vile intestine vipers torn,
By endless tempests toss'd,
A Babel of religious strife,
Buried in forms, whose power and life
Of godliness is lost.
By vile intestine vipers torn,
By endless tempests toss'd,
A Babel of religious strife,
Buried in forms, whose power and life
Of godliness is lost.
Or if Thou hast a few restored,
Yet strangers to their bleeding Lord
The multitude remain,
Dead to a God they never knew,
People, and priests, and princes too
Yet strangers to their bleeding Lord
The multitude remain,
Dead to a God they never knew,
People, and priests, and princes too
19
For these I would in secret grieve,
Their burden all day long receive,
For these incessant pray,
And many a mournful vigil keep,
Water my couch with tears, and weep
My pensive life away.
Their burden all day long receive,
For these incessant pray,
And many a mournful vigil keep,
Water my couch with tears, and weep
My pensive life away.
Only regard my dying cries,
And bid the ruin'd Church arise
Which more than life I love,
Call all her sons out of their grave,
And this whole house of Israel save
To sing Thy praise above.
And bid the ruin'd Church arise
Which more than life I love,
Call all her sons out of their grave,
And this whole house of Israel save
To sing Thy praise above.
The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | ||