Sensitiveness

Time was, I shrank from what was right From fear of what was wrong; I would not brave the sacred fight, Because the foe was strong.

But now I cast that finer sense And sorer shame aside; Such dread of sin was indolence, Such aim at Heaven was pride.

So, when my Saviour calls, I rise, And calmly do my best; Leaving to Him, with silent eyes Of hope and fear, the rest.

I step, I mount where He has led; Men count my haltings o’er;— I know them; yet, though self I dread, I love His precept more.