I SOUGHT to conquerself, but knew not how;
I asked of man to teach me, but in vain;
All human rules and efforts, like a plow
That skimmed the surface, let the roots remain,
Which, when I thought them gone, sprang up again!
Self cannot cast out self. I 've tried it well.
'Neath the monk's cowl, as well as courtly dress,
In the low cottage you will find it dwell
As rank as in the palace; in distress
And poverty as splendid wealthiness.
One weapon only can its reign destroy;
It is the Cross,-the Cross of Christ alone:
His Cross, who counted it supremest joy,
To leave the glories of His heavenly throne,
And in unselfish love for sin atone.
Self-sacrificing Love! O Jesus! name
Before which heartless selfishness expires,
And selfish pride looks black with hellish shame:
To be like Thee, O Lord, my heart aspires,
And, self to crucify, Thy grace desires.
Oh, glorious victory of heavenly grace!
Man's boasted victories puts on self the crown;
But self falls prostrate low before Thy face:
At Jesus' feet the elders all fall down,
And give to Him the glory and renown.
0 Lord, alas! my progress still is slow,
So hydra-headed is this monstrous ill;
When on the right I seem to lay him low,
Upon the left springs up th' insidious foe;
I smite, and wound him sore, but cannot kill.
But Thou wilt bruise him soon beneath my feet.
Oh, gladsome hour, when I from self am free!
When, all the blessed work of grace complete,
Thou shalt Thy ransomed one in glory greet,-
And all his soul be swallowed up in Thee.