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244 Of excess there is no danger, Though it fills, it never cloys : On a dying Christ I feed, He is meat and drink indeed !

3 When my faith is faint and sickly, Or when Satan wounds my mind, Cordials to revive me quickly, Healing med cines, here I find : To the promises I flee, Each affords a remedy.

4 In the hour of dark temptation, Satan cannot make me yield ; For the word of consolation Is to me a mighty shield : While the Scripture truths are sure , From his malice I m secure.

5 Vain his threats to overcome me When I take the Spirit s sword ; Then with ease I drive him from me, Satan trembles at the word : Tis a sword for conquest made, Keen the edge and strong the blade.

6 Shall I envy then the miser, Doating on his golden store ? Sure I am, or should be, wiser : I am rich, tis he is poor : Jesus gives me, in his word, Food and med cine, shield and sword.

1 THE gath ring clouds, with aspect dark, A rising storm presage ; Oh ! to be hid within the ark, And shelter d from its rage !