I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
2104. |
2105. |
2106. |
2107. |
2108. |
2109. |
2110. |
2111. |
2112. |
2113. |
2114. |
2115. |
2116. |
2117. |
2118. |
2119. |
2120. |
2121. |
2122. |
2123. |
2124. |
2125. |
2126. |
2127. |
2128. |
2129. |
2130. |
2131. |
2132. |
2133. |
2134. |
2135. |
2136. |
2137. |
2138. |
2139. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XIII. |
The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | ||
3163.
[We that are Christ's, have crucified]
They that are Christ's have crucified the, &c.
—v. 24.
We that are Christ's, have crucified
The flesh, the rebel man within,
Passion, and appetite, and pride,
And all the brood of inbred sin;
The Adam old (the selfish love)
By faith we nail'd him to the tree,
From whence he never shall remove,
But bleed to death, O Lord, with Thee.
The flesh, the rebel man within,
Passion, and appetite, and pride,
And all the brood of inbred sin;
67
By faith we nail'd him to the tree,
From whence he never shall remove,
But bleed to death, O Lord, with Thee.
In vain for a reprieve he cries,
And groans, and struggles to be freed;
In vain his subtlest art he tries,
And feigns himself already dead:
To make us boast the conflict o'er,
He seems to gasp his latest breath,
And stirs in novices no more,
And dies at once a sudden death.
And groans, and struggles to be freed;
In vain his subtlest art he tries,
And feigns himself already dead:
To make us boast the conflict o'er,
He seems to gasp his latest breath,
And stirs in novices no more,
And dies at once a sudden death.
But taught of God, we surely know,
The man of desperate wickedness
Shall weaker still and weaker grow,
And lingering die by slow degrees;
The Adam old, we dare believe,
Shall hang with Christ transfix'd and fast,
A thousand mortal wounds receive,
Till perfect grace inflict the last.
The man of desperate wickedness
Shall weaker still and weaker grow,
And lingering die by slow degrees;
The Adam old, we dare believe,
Shall hang with Christ transfix'd and fast,
A thousand mortal wounds receive,
Till perfect grace inflict the last.
The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | ||