Spite of the godhead

Spite of the godhead, pow'rful Love,

I will my torments hide,

But what avail if life must prove

A sacrifice to pride.

Pride, thou art become my goddess now,

To thee I'll altars rear,

To thee each morning pay my vow

And offer ev'ry tear.

But oh, I fear, should Philemon

Once take thy injur'd part,

I soon should cast the idol down

And offer him my heart.