1 Let it the constant study be,
Of him call'd to the ministry;
Whom gifts, and grace completley arm,
Old Satan's citadel to storm.

2 Regardless of the praise of men,
If they approve, or if condemn;
Approv'd of God, a workman nam'd
That needeth not be be asham'd.

3 Dividing right the word of truth,
A part of age, and part for youth;
For christians young and old a treat,
With milk the first, the last with meat.

4 'Twixt saint and sinner draw a line,
The first with radiant crowns shall sine,
While those sunk deep in endless night,
Confess the sentence just and right.

5 For all shall bow beneath the rod
And every tongue confess to God;
The law of justice and of grace,
Divides at last the human race.

6 Grant we may hear the truth to day,
And every soul the call obey,
Oh may the thunders of thy word!
Awake our souls to praise the Lord.