Sensitiveness

Time was, I shrank from what was right,
    From fear of what was wrong;
I would not brave the sacred fight,
    Because the foe was strong.
But now I cast that finer sense
    And sorer shame aside;
Such dread of sin was indolence,
    Such aim at heaven was pride.
So, when my Saviour calls, I rise,
    And calmly do my best;
Leaving to Him, with silent eyes
    Of hope and fear, the rest.
I step, I mount where He has led;
    Men count my haltings o’er;—
I know them; yet, though self I dread,
    I love his precept more.