The stormy rain an entrance hath
Through the uncovered top:
How should I rest when showers of wrath
Upon my conscience drop?

I locked my jewel in my chest;
I'll search lest that be gone:--
If this one guest had quit my breast,
I had been quite undone.

My treacherous Flesh had played its part,
And opened Sin the door;
And they have spoiled and robbed my heart,
And left it sad and poor.

Yet have I one great trusty friend
That will procure my peace,
And all this loss and ruin mend,
And purchase my release.

The bellows I'll yet take in hand,
Till this small spark shall flame:
Love shall my heart and tongue command
To praise God's holy name.

I'll mend the roof; I'll watch the door,
And better keep the key;
I'll trust my treacherous flesh no more,
But force it to obey.