The passion of our blessed Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ: or, Cries of the Son of God Digested from the works of the late Reverend Dr. Horneck. Licens'd and enter'd according to order.
About this Item
- Title
- The passion of our blessed Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ: or, Cries of the Son of God Digested from the works of the late Reverend Dr. Horneck. Licens'd and enter'd according to order.
- Author
- Horneck, Anthony, 1641-1697.
- Publication
- London :: printed for S. Bates in Gilt-spur-street,
- [1700?]
- Rights/Permissions
-
To the extent possible under law, the Text Creation Partnership has waived all copyright and related or neighboring rights to this keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above, according to the terms of the CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication (http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/). This waiver does not extend to any page images or other supplementary files associated with this work, which may be protected by copyright or other license restrictions. Please go to http://www.textcreationpartnership.org/ for more information.
- Subject terms
- Jesus Christ -- Passion -- Early works to 1800.
- Link to this Item
-
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A44538.0001.001
- Cite this Item
-
"The passion of our blessed Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ: or, Cries of the Son of God Digested from the works of the late Reverend Dr. Horneck. Licens'd and enter'd according to order." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A44538.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 12, 2024.
Pages
Page [unnumbered]
Page [unnumbered]
The Love of a dying SAVIOUR
WHAT makes this dreadful Sound, Eli, Eli, Lamasabachthani? What is it makes the Earth to shake? Who is it makes the Earth to quake? Jesus.) 'Tis I, poor Soul, that's lifted up To drink my Father's litter Cup: 'Tis I must die the Death o'th' Slave, From Sin and Hell thy Soul to save, Look, see how I am Crucify'd. Behold Im pierced thro' the side! My tender Head with Thorns is Crown'd, And with the Jews encompass'd round. Whilst dryed with Grief's my tender Throat, And Soldiers for my seemless Coat Cast Lots.—Father, thy Will be done, Forsak'st thou, Why thine only Son? See, Sinner, see my Hands are Nail'd, My trickling Side, and Legs, exhal'd From Natures length! Can'st thou believe? Do and thou shalt Mercy receive. Soul) Ah, Lord my trembling So••l relents, And with each Faculty Repents: Lord, I believe, my Unbelief Help thou, and with the blessed Thief, Afford me Mercy, Lord, that I, May dwell with thee Eternally. And since 'tis so, to thee I'll bring Whole Hecatombs of Praise Off'ring.Page [unnumbered]
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