large/5160/peterbell_1807_librivox_64kb_mp3/peterbellatale_04_wordsworth_64kb_18
large/5160/peterbell_1807_librivox_64kb_mp3/peterbellatale_04_wordsworth_64kb
English
5160
955 Even as he passed the door, these words Did plainly come to Peter's ears; And they such joyful tidings were, The joy was more than he could bear!   He melted into tears. EVEN AS HE PASSED THE DOOR THESE WORDS DID PLAINLY COME TO PETER'S EARS AND THEY SUCHYFUL TIDINGS WERE THE JOY WAS MORE THAN HE COULD BEAR HE MELTED INTO TEARS
 is no other; And hears her crying as she cried, The very moment that she died, "My mother! oh my mother!" 930 The sweat pours down from Peter's face, So grievous is his heart's contrition; With agony his eye-balls ache While he beholds by the furze-brake This miserable vision! 935 Calm is the well-deserving brute, _His_ peace hath no offence betrayed; But now, while down that slope he wends, A voice to Peter's ear [102] ascends, Resounding from the woody glade: 940 The voice, though clamorous as a horn Re-echoed by a naked rock, Comes from that tabernacle--List! [103] Within, a fervent [104] Methodist Is preaching to no heedless flock! 945 "Repent! repent!" he cries aloud, "While yet ye may find mercy;--strive To love the Lord with all your might; Turn to him, seek him day and night, And save your souls alive! 950 "Repent! repent! though ye have gone, Through paths of wickedness and woe, After the Babylonian harlot; And, though your sins be red as scarlet, They shall be white as snow! YARDS FROM THE BROAD HIGHWAY AND STRETCHED BENEATH THE FIRS HE SEES THE HIGHLAND GIRL IT IS NO OTHER AND HEARS HER CRYING AS SHE CRIED THE VERY MOMENT THAT SHE DIED MY MOTHER OH MY MOTHER THE SWEAT POURS DOWN FROM PETER'S FACE SO GRIEVOUS IS HIS HEART'S CONTRITION WITH AGONY HIS EYEBALLS ACHE WHILE HE BEHOLDS BY THE FIRS BREAK THIS MISERABLE VISION CALM IS THE WELL DESERVING BRUTE HIS PEACE HATH NO OFFENCE BETRAYED BUT NOW WHILE DOWN THAT SLOPE HE WENDS A VOICE TO PETER'S EAR ASCENDS RESOUNDING FROM THE WOODY GLADE THE VOICE THOUGH CLAMOROUS AS A HORN RE ECHOED BY NAKED ROCK COMES FROM THAT TABERNACLE LIST WITHIN A FERVENT METHODIST IS PREACHING TO NO HEEDLESS FLOCK REPENT REPENT HE CRIES ALOUD WHILE YET YE MAY FIND MERCY STRIVE TO LOVE THE LORD WITH ALL YOUR MIGHT TURN TO HIM SEEK HIM DAY AND NIGHT AND SAVE YOUR SOULS ALIVE REPENT REPENT THOUGH YE HAVE GONE THROUGH PASSIVE WICKEDNESS AND WOE AFTER THE BABYLONIAN HARLOT AND THOUGH YOUR SINS BE RED AS SCARLET THEY SHALL BE WHITE AS SNOW
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