Dreadful, pride chastising word
Of surest prophecy!
Two in three that call Thee Lord,
Shall be cut off and die.
Who should then of grace presume?
Father, in Thine hands I am,
Save me from th’apostate’s doom,
I ask in Jesu’s name.
Need I then, my God, despair
Thy favor to retain?
Lost if two in three there are,
The third shall still remain;
Of the third distinguished part,
That I may live forever one,
Stamp Thine image on my heart,
And join me to Thy Son.