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| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
 | VIII. |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
| XLIII. |
| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
| XLVIII. |
| LI. |
| LII. |
| LIV. |
| LV. |
| LVI. |
| LVII. |
| LVIII. |
| LIX. |
| LX. |
| LXI. |
| LXII. |
| LXIII. |
| LXIV. |
| LXV. |
| LXVI. |
| LXVII. |
| LXVIII. |
| LXIX. |
| LXX. |
| LXXI. |
| LXXX. |
| LXXXIV. |
| LXXXV. |
| LXXXVI. |
| XC. |
| XCI. |
| XCIII. |
| XCIV. |
| XCVII. |
| XCVIII. |
| C. |
| CII. |
| CIII. |
| CIV. |
| CVII. |
| CXIV. |
| CXVI. |
| CXVII. |
| CXVIII. |
| CXIX. |
| CXX. |
| CXXI. |
| CXXII. |
| CXXIII. |
| CXXIV. |
| CXXV. |
| CXXVI. |
| CXXVII. |
| CXXVIII. |
| CXXIX. |
| CXXX. |
| CXXXI. |
| CXXXII. |
| CXXXIII. |
| CXXXIV. |
| CXXXVII. |
| CXXXVIII. |
| CXL. |
| CXLII. |
| CXLIII. |
| CXLVI. |
| CL. |
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| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
 | CHAPTER XI. The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley |  |
2611.
[Saviour and Prince, I lift]
Saviour and Prince, I lift
To Thee my flinty heart,
Who only dost the precious gift
Of penitence impart;
Clothed with omnipotence
Thou canst the stone remove,
Thou wilt bestow the contrite sense,
For Thou, O God, art Love.
To Thee my flinty heart,
Who only dost the precious gift
Of penitence impart;
Clothed with omnipotence
Thou canst the stone remove,
Thou wilt bestow the contrite sense,
For Thou, O God, art Love.
I wait the powerful look
Of tenderness Divine,
The sight which many a heart hath broke
Almost as hard as mine;
The piteous spectacle
Of Jesus on the tree,
Which bids my wounded spirit feel
The death He bore for me.
Of tenderness Divine,
The sight which many a heart hath broke
Almost as hard as mine;
The piteous spectacle
Of Jesus on the tree,
Which bids my wounded spirit feel
The death He bore for me.
259
Soon as Thy cross appears
The rocks again are rent,
Sinners dissolve in gracious tears,
And I, their chief repent!
I weep, and still weep on
Till Thou my sins remove,
Lamenting with my latest groan
That e'er I grieved Thy love.
The rocks again are rent,
Sinners dissolve in gracious tears,
And I, their chief repent!
I weep, and still weep on
Till Thou my sins remove,
Lamenting with my latest groan
That e'er I grieved Thy love.
| CHAPTER XI. The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | |