What, my heart, again backsliding,
Why wilt thou from Jesus flee?
Still deceitful, still deceiving!
Why forsake the narrow way?
Does the Saviour's cross alarm thee?
Is the yoke too much to bear?
Or does smiling pleasure hire thee,
With her baneful gilded snare?
Shun, oh! shun, the vain deceiver,
Look not on the glitt'ring bait;
Remorse and sorrow chaseth ever
Those who dwell within her gates;
But return to Jesus, mourning,
Humbly to His foot-stool flee;
He will pardon thee returning,
Graciously He'll pardon thee.
Now take up the cross with pleasure,
'Tis an easy yoke to bear!
This the christian's greatest treasure,
We are His peculiar care.
