Classic Poem

Thou God of love, thou ever blest!
Pity my suff'ring state;
When wilt thou set my soul at rest
From men of cruel hate?

Hard lot of mine! my days are cast
Among the sons of strife,
Whose never-ceasing insults waste
My golden hours of life.

Oh! might I fly to change my place,
How would I choose to dwell
In some wide, lonesome wilderness,
And leave these gates of hell!

Peace is the blessing that I seek:
How lovely are its charms!
I am for peace; but, when I speak,
They all declare for arms.

New passions still their souls engage,
And keep their malice strong,
What shall be done to curb their rage,
And rescue me from wrong?

Should burning arrows smite them low,
Strict justice would approve;
But I would rather spare my foe,
And melt his heart with love.