Classic Poem

'Tis sweet, though in affliction's path,
Thy ways to learn, O Lord!
Resign'd, through darkest days of wrath,
To wait thy sure award.

For thou wilt not thine own forsake,
Nor cast away thy saints;
The throne of judgment thou wilt take,
And banish their complaints.

Canst thou with vile oppressors dwell,
Who legalize their guilt?
The helpless sons of want they sell;
And, ah! what blood they've spilt!

Thou, Lord! wilt make thy dreadful wrath
On their own heads rebound;
Wilt pour thy vengeance on their path,
And all their plans confound.