1 Broad is the Road that leads to Death,
And Thousands walk together there;
But Wisdom shews a narrower Path,
With here and there a Traveller.

2 Deny thyself, and take thy Cross,
Is the Redeemer's great Command:
Nature must count her Gold but Dross,
If she would gain this heav'nly Land.

3 The fearful Soul that tires and faints,
And walks the Ways of God no more,
Is but esteem'd almost a Saint,
And makes his own Destruction sure.

4 Lord, let not all my Hopes be vain,
Create my Heart intirely new,
Which Hypocrites could ne'er attain,
Which false Apostates never knew.