The souls that would to Jesus press,

The souls that would to Jesus press,
Must fix this firm and sure,
That tribulation, more or less,
They must and shall endure.

From this there can be none exempt;
'Tis God's own wise decree;
Satan the weakest saint will tempt,
Nor is the strongest free.

The world opposes from without,
And unbelief within;
We fear, we faint, we grieve, we doubt,
And feel the load of sin.

Glad frames too often lift us up,
And then how proud we grow!
Till sad desertion makes us droop,
And down we sink as low.

Ten thousand baits the foe prepares
To catch the wandering heart;
And seldom do we see the snares
Before we feel the smart.

But let not all this terrify;
Pursue the narrow path;
Look to the Lord with steadfast eye,
And fight with hell by faith.

Though we are feeble, Christ is strong;
His promises are true;
We shall be conquerors all ere long,
And more than conquerors too.