CCCLXXI SENSITIVENESS

Time was, I shrank from what was right

From fear of what was wrong;

I would not brave the sacred fight,

Because the foe was strong.

But now I cast that finer sense

And sorer shame aside;

Such dread of sin was indolence,

Such aim at Heaven was pride.

So, when my Saviour calls, I rise

And calmly do my best;

Leaving to Him, with silent eyes

Of hope and fear, the rest.

I step, I mount where He has led;

Men count my haltings o'er; --

I know them; yet, though self I dread,

I love His precept more.