1 Ye full, of confidence unfound,
Ye rich, if gifts and faith untried,
Whose joys which nature mixt abound,
Self-praise, self-pleased, self-satisfied,
Slight not your aged fathers poor,
Nor boast your own salvation sure.

2 Ye talkers of your perfect love,
Who kings, without your teachers, reign,
As pillars in the church above,
That never can go out again,
Be warned; or pride will cast you down,
And Satan rob you of your crown.

3 We wish your full perfection here,
We wish your soothing dreams were true,
That faith's almighty Finisher
Had formed your sinless souls anew,
Stablished, enthroned in lasting peace,
In all the heights of holiness.

4 O were the fiend expelled indeed
From all who fancy him expelled!
Extirpated the sinful seed,
Th'original wound completely healed,
The kingdom in your hearts restored,
And every servant as his Lord!

5 Then would your guides their charge attend
With joy, and not with grief and pain,
Your meek and lowly love commend,
And sharers of your triumph reign.
See all their flock o'er Jordan past,
And enter into rest– the last.