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Furnished with books and notions,
And arguments and pride,
And Satan's power defied ;
That these would do no good;
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 ;
To trust in the Most High ;
And use the sling of prayer : Thus armed, when Satan sees us, He'll tremble and despair.