How hard the battle is to win;
They laugh not at the wound within,
For they its danger know.
Oh, guide thy mirth by wisdom’s rules,
For sorrow ends the laugh of fools!
Fools make a mock at sin; but oh,
Lost, guilty spirits do not so:
They know too well the price it cost;
They know through it that heaven was lost.
No drowning seaman, tempest-tost,