Shall I, for fear of fee­ble man,
The Spir­it’s course in me re­strain?
Or, un­dis­mayed, in deed and word
Be a true wit­ness for my Lord?

Awed by a mor­tal’s frown, shall I
Conceal the Word of God most high?
How then be­fore Thee shall I dare
To stand, or how Thine an­ger bear?

Shall I, to soothe the un­ho­ly throng,
Soften Thy truths, and smooth my tongue,
To gain earth’s gild­ed toys, or flee
The cross, en­dured, my God, by Thee?

What then is he whose scorn I dread,
Whose wrath or hate makes me afraid?
A man! an heir of death! a slave
To sin! a bub­ble on the wave!

Yea, let men rage, since Thou wilt spread
Thy sha­dow­ing wings around my head;
Since in all pain Thy ten­der love
Will still my sure re­fresh­ment prove.

Savior of men, Thy search­ing eye
Doth all my in­most thoughts des­cry;
Doth aught on earth my wish­es raise,
Or the world’s plea­sures, or its praise?

The love of Christ doth me con­strain
To seek the wan­der­ing souls of men;
With cries, en­trea­ties, tears, to save,
To snatch them from the gap­ing grave.

For this let men re­vile my name.
No cross I shun, I fear no shame,
All hail, re­proach, and wel­come, pain!
Only Thy ter­rors, Lord, re­strain.

My life, my blood, I here pre­sent,
If for Thy truth they may be spent,
Fulfill Thy so­ver­eign coun­sel, Lord!
Thy will be done, Thy name ad­ored!

Give me Thy strength, O God of pow­er;
Then let winds blow, or thun­ders roar,
Thy faith­ful wit­ness will I be:
’Tis fixed; I can do all through Thee!