This hill though high I covent ascend; The difficulty will not me offend; For I perceive the way of life lies here. Come, pluck up, heart; let’s neither faint nor fear.
Without the Spirit man is so infirm that he cannot, with all other means whatsoever, be enabled to think one right saving thought of God, of Christ, or of his blessed things.
Who would true valour see, Let him come hither; One here will constant be, Come wind, come weather There’s no discouragement Shall make him once relent His first avowed intent To be a pilgrim.
