What though th' accuser roar
Of ills that I have done!
I know them well, and thousands more:
Jehovah findeth none.
Sin, Satan, death appear
To harass and appall;
Yet since the gracious Lord is near,
Backward they go and fall.
Before, behind, around,
They set their fierce array,
To fight and force me from the ground,
Along life's narrow way.
I meet them face to face,
Through Jesus' conquest blest;
March in the triumph of His grace
Right onward to my rest.
There, in His book, I bear
More than a conqueror's name,
Of soldier, son and fellow-heir,
Who fought and overcame.