Furnished with books and notions,

And arguments and pride,
I practised all my motions,

And Satan's power defied ;
But soon perceived with trouble,

That these would do no good;
Iron to him is stubble,

And brass like rotten wood.

I triumphed at a distance,

While he was out of sight ; But faint was my resistance,

When forced to join in fight: He broke my sword in shivers,

And pierced my boasted shield : Laughed at my vain endeavours,

And drove me from the field.

Satan will not be braved

By such a worm as I ;
Then let me learn with David,

To trust in the Most High ;
To plead the name of Jesus,

And use the sling of prayer : Thus armed, when Satan sees us, He'll tremble and despair.


The Christian's Breastplate,


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