Praise They That Will Times

Conquer We Shall, But, We Must First Contend! It's Not The Fight That Crowns Us, But The End.

When The Tempter Me Pursueth With The Sins Of All My Youth, And Half Damns Me With Untruth, Sweet Spirit, Comfort Me!

Tis Not The Food, But The Content, That Makes The Table's Merriment.

Our Present Tears Here, Not Our Present Laughter Are But The Handsells Of Our Joys Hereafter.

Bid Me To Live, And I Will Livethy Protestant To Be,or Bid Me Love, And I Will Givea Loving Heart To Thee.