 | I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
 | V. |
|
| II. |
| I. |
| II. |
|
| CIII. |
| CIV. |
| CV. |
| CVI. |
| CVII. |
| CVIII. |
| CIX. |
| CX. |
| CXI. |
| CXII. |
| CXIII. |
| CXIV. |
| CXV. |
| CXVI. |
| CXVII. |
| CXVIII. |
| CXIX. |
| CXX. |
| CXXI. |
| CXXII. |
|
| CXXIII. |
| CXXIV. |
| CXXV. |
| CXXVI. |
| CXXVII. |
| CXXVIII. |
| CXXIX. |
| CXXX. |
| CXXXI. |
| CXXXII. |
| CXXXIII. |
| CXXXIV. |
| CXXXV. |
| CXXXVI. |
| CXXXVII. |
| CXXXVIII. |
| CXXXIX. |
|
|
| CLXVI. |
| CLXVII. |
|
| CLXXI. |
| CLXXII. |
| CLXXIII. |
| CLXXIV. |
| CLXXV. |
| CLXXVI. |
| CLXXVII. |
| CLXXVIII. |
| CLXXIX. |
| CLXXX. |
| CLXXXI. |
| CLXXXII. |
| CLXXXIII. |
| CLXXXIV. |
| CLXXXV. |
| CLXXXVI. |
| CLXXXVII. |
| CLXXXVIII. |
| CLXXXIX. |
| CXC. |
|
| CCXLVI. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
 | The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley |  |
HEBREWS XII. 2.
“Looking unto Jesus, the Author and Finisher of our faith.”
Weary of struggling with my pain,
Hopeless to burst my nature's chain,
Hardly I give the contest o'er,
I seek to free myself no more.
Hopeless to burst my nature's chain,
Hardly I give the contest o'er,
I seek to free myself no more.
From my own works at last I cease,
God that creates must seal my peace;
Fruitless my toil and vain my care,
And all my fitness is despair.
God that creates must seal my peace;
Fruitless my toil and vain my care,
And all my fitness is despair.
Lord, I despair myself to heal:
I see my sin, but cannot feel;
I cannot, till Thy Spirit blow,
And bid the' obedient waters flow.
I see my sin, but cannot feel;
I cannot, till Thy Spirit blow,
And bid the' obedient waters flow.
'Tis Thine a heart of flesh to give;
Thy gifts I only can receive:
Here then to Thee I all resign;
To draw, redeem, and seal is Thine.
Thy gifts I only can receive:
Here then to Thee I all resign;
To draw, redeem, and seal is Thine.
83
With simple faith, to Thee I call,
My Light, my Life, my Lord, my All:
I wait the moving of the pool;
I wait the word that speaks me whole.
My Light, my Life, my Lord, my All:
I wait the moving of the pool;
I wait the word that speaks me whole.
Speak, gracious Lord, my sickness cure,
Make my infected nature pure;
Peace, righteousness, and joy impart,
And pour Thyself into my heart.
Make my infected nature pure;
Peace, righteousness, and joy impart,
And pour Thyself into my heart.
| The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | |