By the thought­less world de­rid­ed,
Still I love the Word of God;
’Tis a chart by which I’m guid­ed,
Often ’tis a chast­en­ing rod;
’Tis a sword that cuts asun­der
All my pride and va­ni­ty
When abased I lie and won­der
That He spares a wretch like me.

This con­firms me when I wa­ver,
Sets my trembling judg­ment right,
When I stray, how much so­ev­er,
This is my re­stor­ing light;
Satan oft and sin as­sail me,
With temp­ta­tions ev­er new;
Then, O no­thing can avail me,
’Till my bleed­ing Lord I view.

Faith I need, O Lord, be­stow it,
Give my la­bor­ing mind re­lief;
Oft alas! I doubt, I know it,
Help, O help my un­be­lief;
Dearest Sav­ior, by Thy Spir­it
May I gain a fu­ture crown;
Guide, O guide me by Thy Spir­it,
Till these storms are ov­er­blown.