O My Old, My Bosom Foe

O my old, my bosom foe,
Rejoice not over me!

O my old, my bosom foe,
Rejoice not over me!
Oft-times thou hast laid me low,
And wounded mortally;
Yet thy prey thou couldst not keep;
Jesus, when I lowest fell,
Heard me cry out of the deep,
And brought me up from hell.

Foolish world, thy shouts forbear;
Till thou hast won the day;
Could thy wisdom keep me there,
When in thy hands I lay?
If my heart to thee incline,
Christ again shall set it free;
I am his, and he is mine
To all eternity.

Satan, cease thy empty boast,
And give thy triumphs o’er;
Still thou seest I am not lost,
While Jesus can restore,
Though through thy deceit I fall,
Surely I shall rise again,
Christ my King is over all,
And I with him shall reign.

O my three-fold enemy,
To whom I long did bow,
See Your lawful captive, see,
No more your captive now!
Now before my face ye fly;
More than conqueror now I am;
Sin, the world, and hell defy,
In Jesu’s powerful name.