Classic Poem

1.

O Help me, Lord: For none I see,
Whose acts conform to thy Decree;
Nor truth nor faith my search can trace
Amid the sons of human race.

2.

New Plans of fraud each Mind has known,
And speaks a language not its own;
Their Lips have learn'd with specious Art
To veil the Purpose of the Heart:

3.

But God with vengeance arm'd shall rise,
The tongue of Flatt'ry to chastise,
And Justice to the lip of Pride
Its stroke with aim unerring guide.

4.

What force, exclaims the impious Band,
Shall eloquence like ours withstand?
And say, to whom the task belongs
To fix the bridle on our tongues.

5.

" Enough (th' eternal Sire has cried)
" Enough my suff'ring Saints have sigh'd,
" To Me disclos'd their ceaseless fear,
" And pour'd their sorrows in mine ear:

6.

" My hand shall see their wrongs redrest,
" And sooth to peace their troubled breast,
" Its saving Aid around them throw,
" And guard them from th' insulting Foe. "

7.

Pure are thy words, almighty Lord,
As Silver, that, by art explor'd,
Has seen the sev'nth tormenting sire
Around th' inclosing vase aspire.

8.

Thy Love thy Servants, Lord, shall share,
And, safe in thy protecting care,
Behold, unmov'd, an impious Age
Aim at their life its fruitless rage.

9.

When Men, by ev'ry Crime debas'd,
In Seats of sov'reign Rule are plac'd,
Then wrong and fraud the Earth o'erspread,
And Vice triumphant lifts the head.