It slithers softly
      Through the idle mind of man;
Twines around the fleshly heart
      And saps the will away.

It ne'er yet solved a problem,
      Nor has it built a house;
Nor has it brought rejoicing;
      Only tears of remorse!

Stealth, deceit, and cunning
      Are tools in its employ;
It speaks in stealthy whispers,
      Ashamed to be heard!

Great pleasure is its promise,
      Heartbreak is its fruit;
It robs man of his dignity;
      It bears the seal of hell!

For fools it's a constant companion,
      For all men it's a foe,
It's name is called Temptation,
      It's partners, Sin and Death!

And yet this most deadly enemy
      Of man is made to flee,
By simply saying, "It is written--"
      Like the Man of Galilee!