Classic Poem

Behold me, the man who hath known
Affliction and scorning;
I wander in darkness alone
And find not the morning.

The hand of Jehovah is turned
Against me forever;
He heareth me not, he hath spurned
My prayer and endeavor.

And yet His compassions are sure
And new every morrow;
Or how should we ever endure
The arrows of sorrow?

Oh, well for a man that he grieve
While yet he is youthful;
Yea, well that he calmly believe
In Him who is ruthful.

He sitteth in silence profound,
Rememb'ring his punishment;
He boweth his mouth to the ground,
Accepting admonishment.

He giveth his cheek unto him
Who executes sentence;
His spirit is filled to the brim
With trustful repentance.

For God will redeem us at last,
Though sorely He chasten;
His anger will quickly be past,
His mercies will hasten.

He hates not the children of dust,
To cause them to perish;
And though his resentment be just,
He yearneth to cherish.