In times of great testing, when temptation's raw,
I find myself scheming, "Lord, is it not small?
If just for a moment, my burdens to lift,
And sin just a little, for respite it gives."
How charming the prospect of pleasure's relief,
But cunning, sin traps me with empty deceit.
A snare for the foot, and a barb for the hand;
For worship and slavery, my idols demand.

How clearly in hindsight, the folly I see,
To revel in what put my Savior to grief!
The thorns of my wickedness crowning His brow;
The nails of my guilt spilt His blood on the ground.
Was ever there one clad with beauty as He?
Unblemished, the Lamb who was hung on the tree.
The splendor of seraphs and heavens pale dim,
Before Him whose worthiness paid my sin!

 

O Jesus, Beloved, my Savior so pure!
Forgive me the carnal affections I spoor. 
May sin be distasteful – its savor removed,
And in its place only that which You approve.
May zeal for You glory be what my soul craves,
And war against sin be the battle I wage.
O Jesus, Beloved, grant me from Your throne
Dependence! Dependence, upon You alone!