Classic Poem

Lord , grant my just request; O hear my cry,
And pray'rs that lips untouch'd with guile unfold!
My cause before Thy high tribunal try,
And let Thine eyes my righteousness behold.

Thou prov'st my heart ev'n in the night's recess,
Like metal tri'st me, yet no dross hast found;
I am resolv'd, my tongue shall not transgress,
But on Thy word will all my actions ground.

So shall I from the paths of tyrants fly;
O, lest I slip, direct my steps by Thine!
I Thee invoke, for Thou wilt hear my cry;
Thine ear to my afflicted voice incline.

O shew Thy wondrous love! Thou from their foes
Preservest all that on Thy aid depend.
Lord, as the apple of the eye enclose,
And over me Thy shady wings extend.

For impious men, and such as deadly hate
My guiltless soul, have compass'd me about;
Who swell with pride, enclos'd with their own fat,
And words of contumely thunder out.

Our traced steps entrap as in a toil,
Low-couched on the earth with flaming eyes,
Like famish'd lions eager of their spoil,
Or lion's whelps, close lurking to surprise.

Arise! prevent him, from his glory hurl'd;
My pensive soul from the devourer save;
From men which are Thy scourge, men of the world,
Who in this life alone their portion have.

Fill'd with Thy secret treasure, to their race
They their accumulated riches leave;
But I with righteousness shall see Thy face;
And rising, in Thy image, joy receive.