1 Strait is the way, the door is strait,
That leads to joys on high;
'Tis but a few that find the gate,
While crouds mistake, and die.

2 Beloved self must be deny'd,
The mind and will renew'd
Passion suppress'd, and patience try'd,
And vain desires subdu'd.

3 The love of gold be banished hence,
(That vile idolatry)
And every member, every sense
In sweet subjection lie.

4 The tongue, that most unruly power,
Requires a strong restraint;
We must be watchful every hour,
And pray, but never faint.

5 Lord! can a feeble helpless worm
Fulfil a task so hard?
Thy grace must all my work perform,
And give the free reward.