Hymns

I hate the tempter and his charms

by Isaac Watts·1707·Meter 8.6.8.6 (CM)

1

I hate the tempter and his charms,
I hate his flatt'ring breath;
The serpent takes a thousand forms
To cheat our souls to death.

2

He feeds our hopes with airy dreams,
Or kills with slavish fear;
And holds us still in wide extremes,
Presumption or despair.

3

Now he persuades, "How easy 'tis
To walk the road to heav'n;"
Anon he swells our sins, and cries,
"They cannot be forgiv'n."

4

He bids young sinners "yet forbear
To think of God, or death;
For prayer and devotion are
But melancholy breath."

5

He tells the aged, "they must die,
"And 'tis too late to pray;
In vain for mercy now they cry,
For they have lost their day."

6

Thus he supports his cruel throne
By mischief and deceit,
And drags the sons of Adam down
To darkness and the pit.

7

Almighty God, cut short his power,
Let him in darkness dwell
And that he vex the earth no more,
Confine him down to hell.