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To live at random, void of cares,
While all things to confusion run?

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5 O may it be my lasting choice ..

To walk with men of grace below! "Till I arrive where heav'nly joys,.

And never-fading honours grow !

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4 Thus when the faints in glory meet,

Their lips proclaim thy grace ; They caft their honours at thy feet,

And own their borrow'd rays. ..

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3 Are there not foes for me to face?

Must I not item the flood ?
Is this vile world a friend to grace,

To help me on to God.

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5 Thy saints, in all this glorious war,

Shall conquer tho' they die :


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4 I call the days of old to mind,

When I have found my God was kind :
My heay'nly friend is still the same :
Salvation to his holy name.


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