1 Hark! hark! I hear my Saviour's voice,
But satan quickly comes behind;
Fain would my soul in God rejoice,
But ah! what tumults fill the mind.

2 Be still, be still, I long to hear,
What Jesus my dear Lord doth say;
He is my pilot yet I fear,
Your tumults makes me lose the way.

3 Dear Jesus help me in this way,
The ransom'd of the Lord hath trod;
The lions whelp, the vultures eye,
Hath never seen, nor trod the road.

4 Nor could my eyes behold this way,
'Till Jesus for my help did rise,
And with the spittle and the clay,
Sweetly anointed both mine eyes.

5 Eternal praise to thy name,
That thou hast eyes to give the blind;
And feet also to give the lame,
Wealth, joy and peace, in thee we find.

6 Nor shall my soul again complain,
For thou hath set my foe behind;
He cannot go beyond his chain,
To hurt thy friends among mankind.

7 So I will run the blessed race,
Eternal joy I soon shall find;
Satan can never fill the path,
Since Christ has bid him go behind.