large/5160/peterbell_1807_librivox_64kb_mp3/peterbellatale_04_wordsworth_64kb_13
large/5160/peterbell_1807_librivox_64kb_mp3/peterbellatale_04_wordsworth_64kb
English
5160
965 Each fibre of his frame was weak; Weak all the animal within; But, in its helplessness, grew mild And gentle as an infant child, An infant that has known no sin. EACH FIBER OF HIS FRAME WAS WEAK WEAK ALL THE ANIMAL WITHIN BUT IN ITS HELPLESSNESS GREW MILD AND GENTLE AS AN INFANT CHILD AN INFANT THAT HAS KNOWN NO SIN
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!" 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. 960 Sweet tears of hope and tenderness! And fast they fell, a plenteous shower! His nerves, his sinews seemed to melt; Through all his iron frame was felt A gentle, a relaxing, power! S 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 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 SWEET TEARS OF HOPE AND TENDERNESS AND FAST THEY FELL A PLENTEOUS SHOWER HIS NERVES HIS SINEWS SEEMED TO MELT THROUGH ALL HIS IRON FRAME WAS FELT A GENTLE A RELAXING POWER
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