1 In the hour of trial,
Jesus, plead for me,
Lest, by base denial,
I depart from Thee;
When Thou seest me waver,
With a look recall,
Nor, for fear or favor,
Suffer me to fall.

2 With its witching pleasures
Would this vain world charm,
Or its sordid treasures
Spread to work me harm;
Bring to my remembrance
Sad Gethsemane,
Or in darker semblance,
Cross-crowned Calvary.

3 Should Thy mercy send me
Sorrow, toil, and woe;
Or should pain attend me
On my path below;
Grant that I may never
Fail Thy hand to see,
Grant that I may ever
Cast my care on Thee.

4 When my last hour cometh,
Fraught with strife and pain,
When my dust returneth
To the dust again:
On Thy truth relying
Through that mortal strife,
Jesus, take me, dying,
To eternal life.