1 Broad is the road that leads to death, And thousands walk together there; But wisdom shews a narrower path, With here and there a traveller.
2 "Deny thyself, and take thy cross," Is the Redeemer's great command; Nature must count her gold but dross If she would gain this heavenly land.
3 The fearful soul that tires and faints, And walks the ways of God no more, Is but esteem'd almost a saint, And makes his own destruction sure.
4 Lord, let not all my hopes be vain; Create my heart entirely new, Which hypocrites could ne'er attain, Which false apostates never knew.