Isaac Watts · 669 of 724

Hymn 161

Strait is the way, the door is strait, That leads to joys on high; 'Tis but a few that find the gate, While crowds mistake, and die.

Beloved self must be denied, The mind and will renewed Passion suppressed, and patience tried, And vain desires subdued.

[Flesh is a dangerous foe to grace, Where it prevails and rules; Flesh must be humbled, pride abased, Lest they destroy our souls.

The love of gold be banished hence, That vile idolatry, And every member, every sense, in sweet subjection lie.]

The tongue, that most unruly power, Requires a strong restraint; We must be watchful every hour, And pray, but never faint.

Lord, can a feeble, helpless worm Fulfil a task so hard? Thy grace must all my work perform, And give the free reward.