The castle of the hu­man heart
Strong in its na­tive sin,
Is guard­ed well, in ev­ery part,
By him who dwells with­in.

For Sa­tan there, in arms, re­sides,
And calls the place his own;
With care against as­saults pro­vides,
And rules, as on a throne.

Each trai­tor thought on him, as chief,
In blind obe­di­ence waits;
And pride, self-will, and un­be­lief,
Are post­ed at the gates.

Thus Sa­tan for a sea­son reigns,
And keeps his goods in peace;
The soul is pleased to wear his chains,
Nor wish­es a re­lease.

But Je­sus, strong­er far than he,
In His ap­point­ed hour
Appears, to set His peo­ple free
From the usurp­er’s pow­er.

This heart I bought with blood, He says,
And now it shall be Mine.
His voice the strong one armed dis­mays,
He knows he must re­sign.

In spite of un­be­lief and pride,
And self, and Sa­tan’s art;
The gates of brass fly op­en wide,
And Je­sus wins the heart.

The re­bel soul that once with­stood
The Sav­ior’s kind­est call;
Rejoices now, by grace sub­dued,
To serve Him with her all.