To fly the good I would pursue,
Or do the ill I would not do;
Still he who felt temptation’s power,
Will guard me in that dangerous hour.
3 When, sorrowing, o’er some stone I bend,
Which covers all that was a friend;
And from his hand, his voice, his smile,
Divides me for a little while—
My Saviour marks the tears I shed,
For “Jesus wept” o’er Lazarus dead.