OR. THE WORLD HAS CHANGED. 89 



The angela know them, man's in doubt, 



May be Lazarus or Magdalene, 

 Such that might be scorned of men. 



Such might be God's choice I ween. 



How many wolves that wear lambs wool. 



Have gathered within the fold, 

 They may deceive his people here. 



But in his courts they cannot hold. 



How often e'en within the church, 



That Heaven's temples are profaned. 

 Hypocrite in a deacon's chair^ 



Who for a saint hath been ordained. 



How many, who may feel secure, 



That will pass through the inner gate ? 

 Oh ! How many shall enter there? 



And how many will miscalculate? 



Then I wonder what'll be my fate, 



When I'm called to make the change. 

 If I'm saved for what I've done, 



Would think it passing strange. 



If I'm lost, could but deem it just, 



For I know I've a rebel been ; 

 Could make no excuse, silent be, 



My sins I would not dare to screen, 



In soul I know I love the Lord, 



But in the flesh I'm very weak. 

 Sometimes I feel a would-be saint. 



Then comes again a devlish streak. 



Now some may think all this is weak, 

 And to all such it may be Greek, 

 To me the only solid plan, 

 Only reasonable left to man. 



