Mine eyes are ever toward the LORD; for He shall pluck my feet out of the net. Psalm xxv.15.
A voice, a call from glory, cries
"Watch, Christian, watch, at eve, at morn,
Lest open violence, or surprise,
Defeat thy soul forlorn."
My Saviour, Master, it is Thou!
Thy voice awakes me to the strife!
Yes, let me watch - each passing now,
Each conscious pulse of life.
Yet how can this unready will
At once, at every point, repel
The heart's own traitors, aided still
By energies of hell?
A sinner's watch against his sin
I keep, with weary sighs, in vain;
In vain on evil deep within
This aching gaze I strain.
But now a better hope is mine;
Jesus, 'tis Thou, my life, my own;
Bid through the Word Thy Spirit shine,
And show Thyself alone.
To see the glory of Thy Name,
Eternal Son for sinners given;
To embrace Thy cross for aye the same,
Thy gift of peace, of heaven;
To welcome Thy great light at length,
Thy love unknown to trust, to know -
This brings a tenderness, a strength,
Nought else can give below.
Then to my soul each anxious morn,
Each toiling noon, each wearied eve,
The sweet, the blissful thought be borne,
"Thou livest - I believe."
Thus shall I learn a wakeful power,
Within me felt, yet not of me;
Thus meet the foes of each new hour
By looking unto Thee.