When filthy pass­ions, or un­just,
Professors’ minds con­trol,
When men give up the reins to lust,
And in­ter­est sways the whole;

Or when they seek them­selves to please,
Decline each thor­ny road,
Indulge their sloth, con­sult their ease,
And slight the fear of God.

The faith is vain such men pro­fess,
It comes not from ab­ove;
The right­eous man doth right­eous­ness,
And true faith works by love.

Men’s act­ions with their minds will suit,
By them the heart is viewed,
A tree that bears cor­rupt­ed fruit,
Cannot be call­èd good.

The Christ­ian seeks his bro­ther’s good,
Sometimes be­yond his own;
Or, if self in­ter­est will in­trude,
It does not reign alone.

Help us, dear Lord, to hon­or Thee,
Let our good works ab­ound:
Thou art that green, that faith­ful tree,
From Thee our fruit is found.