Verse 1
Thy furious foes implacable,
The bandied potentates of night,
No more shall dare thy soul assail,
Confounded by my Spirit’s might;
The worldly, persecuting throng,
Hell’s synagogue, shall all submit,
And sin, which strove with thee so long,
Lie quite extinguish’d at thy feet.
Verse 2
Where are thine old intestine foes?
All come to a perpetual end:
No longer can the flesh oppose,
Or nature frail with grace contend:
The hatred of thy carnal mind,
Thy passions, lusts, as nothing be,
The life of self thou canst not find,
Or know that pride remains in thee.