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| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
 | CHAPTER VI. The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley |  |
1255.
[Woe to you who riches prize]
But woe unto you that are rich! &c.
—vi. 24–26.
Woe to you who riches prize,
Ye who now in wealth abound;
Ye have found your paradise,
All your paradise have found:
Cursed on earth with what ye love,
Look for no reward above.
Ye who now in wealth abound;
Ye have found your paradise,
All your paradise have found:
Cursed on earth with what ye love,
Look for no reward above.
Woe to you who always full,
Fare like Dives every day:
Famish'd is the glutton's soul,
Satan's long-expected prey;
Pamper'd beasts with devils dwell,
Keep an endless fast in hell.
Fare like Dives every day:
Famish'd is the glutton's soul,
Satan's long-expected prey;
Pamper'd beasts with devils dwell,
Keep an endless fast in hell.
Woe to you who laugh and play,
Who in mirth and pleasures live,
Cast your jocund souls away!
Ye shall soon lament and grieve,
Weep and wail with fiends below
Doom'd to everlasting woe.
Who in mirth and pleasures live,
Cast your jocund souls away!
Ye shall soon lament and grieve,
Weep and wail with fiends below
Doom'd to everlasting woe.
Woe to you whom all commend:
Prudent to preserve your fame,
Favourites of the world your friend,
Foes to Jesus and His shame,
Souls for air, and fire ye sell,
Air on earth, and fire in hell.
Prudent to preserve your fame,
Favourites of the world your friend,
Foes to Jesus and His shame,
Souls for air, and fire ye sell,
Air on earth, and fire in hell.
153
So the lying prophets lived,
Honour'd in the days of old;
They their praise from men received,
They their souls for nothing sold;
You with them your doom shall mourn,
Raised to everlasting scorn.
Honour'd in the days of old;
They their praise from men received,
They their souls for nothing sold;
You with them your doom shall mourn,
Raised to everlasting scorn.
Woe to you, eternal woe!
Idolised by flattering men!
Go, with the false prophets go
To the dark, infernal den,
Howl in blasphemous despair,
Hiss'd by all the serpents there!
Idolised by flattering men!
Go, with the false prophets go
To the dark, infernal den,
Howl in blasphemous despair,
Hiss'd by all the serpents there!
| CHAPTER VI. The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | |