Jehovah, judge my cause,
Avenge me of my foe,
Fight against Satan and his host:
Oh, lay the strong one low!

I have cast off his yoke,
Renounced his cursèd sway;
For this he doubly hates, and longs
To seize me as his prey.

To thee, and to thy cross,
For help, O Lord, I flee;—
He must prevail, if thou do not,
O Lord, deliver me!

For thou hast vanquished him!
Let him not conquer me;
Put him to shame, O Lord my God;
Give me the victory.

It is not strength that wins:
My weakness is my shield;
In lowly trust we fight the fight,
And meekness wins the field.

Give me the lowly heart,
Cast out each thought of pride,
Let gentleness and love come in,
And as my guests abide.

Thy will, not mine, be done;
I would not choose my own;
But let me ever, ever be
Thy servant, Lord, alone.

Jesus, to thee I flee,
Jesus, thy cross I clasp;
Save me from Satan’s hellish power,
Oh, pluck me from his grasp.

So shall I praise thee, Lord,
And thy great name adore,
With Father and with Spirit one,
Forever, evermore.

Bernhard Pick, Hymns and Poetry of the Eastern Church, (New York; Cincinnati: Eaton & Mains; Jennings & Graham, 1908), 96–97.

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