Unstable souls
the slaves of sense
The tempter oft beguiles
Approaching with some fair pretense
He veils his artful wiles.
Sometimes he tempts us to presume
And then to deep despair;
Tells us
in Christ there is no room
No refuge for us there.
To youth he says
’Tis yet too soon
A dying prayer will do;
To hoary age
The time is gone
To form the life anew.
When carnal objects we pursue
He strews them in our way
Enticing baits presents to view
And makes us soon his prey.
Now he assumes a form divine
The simple to allure
Extols their duties with design
Their ruin to secure.
A God all mercy or all wrath
He’ll place before our view
Severe to mark the least offense
Or careless what we do.
Great God
his various schemes confound
Bind up this haughty foe;
Then shall our tongues Thy praise resound
Our hearts with joy o’erflow.