Classic Poem

My God, my Rock, regard my cry,
Lest I unheard, like those that die,
In shades of dark oblivion lie.

To my ascending grief give ear,
When I my hands devoutly rear
Before Thy mercy-seat with fear.

With wicked men mix not my fate,
Nor drag me with the reprobate,
Who speak of peace, but foster hate.

Such as their works, their dire intent,
And practices to circumvent;
Such be their dreadful punishment.

Since they will not Thy choice renown,
But hate whom Thou intend'st to crown;
O build not up, but pull them down.

He hears! His Name be magnifi'd!
My strength secur'd on ev'ry side,
Since all my hope on Him relied.

These seas of joy my tears devour,
My songs shall celebrate Thy pow'r,
O Thou that art to Thine a tow'r.

O Thou my strong deliverance,
Thy people, Thine inheritance,
Bless, feed, preserve, and still advance.