Think not, O man, that strong Temptation's hour,
For all thy might of mind, is past to thee;
Dream not, presumptuous, that thy state is free
From evil chance and change and Satan's power.

Hot Nature still may vex thy soul within,
And fire its house with wantonness or strife,
Still can thy heart make shipwreck of its life,
And drown in gulphs of dark tumultuous sin.

How canst thou guess the trials coming near,
Or whether some lost spirit be not sent
To lure thy pride to some due punishment,
For that, high-minded, thou hast cast off fear?

Oh never is there safety for the soul
Out of true humbleness; the purest saint
Shall burst through grace, and habit's good constraint,
If lust and pride within him win control.

Then, be thou ware, frail creature! watch and pray;
Thou hast no stores, but only manna given;
Go, flee temptation at the gates of heaven,
And humbly ask thy daily bread to-day.