In the hour of tri­al,
Jesus, plead for me,
Lest by base de­ni­al,
I de­part from Thee:
When Thou seest me wa­ver,
With a look re­call,
Nor, for fear or fa­vor,
Suffer me to fall.

With its witch­ing plea­sures,
Would this vain world charm,
Or, its sor­did trea­sures,
Spread, to work me harm;
Bring to my re­mem­brance
Sad Geth­se­ma­ne,
Or, in dark­er sem­blance,
Cross-crowned Cal­va­ry.

If, with sore affliction,
Thou in love chastise,
Pour Thy be­ne­dict­ion
On the sac­ri­fice;
Then, up­on Thine al­tar,
Freely of­fered up,
Though the flesh may fal­ter,
Faith shall drink the cup.

When, in dust and ash­es,
To the grave I sink,
While Heav’n’s glory flashes
O’er the shelv­ing brink,
On Thy truth re­ly­ing,
Through that mor­tal strife,
Lord, re­ceive me, dy­ing,
To eter­nal life.