Classic Poem

When God restor'd our captive state,
Joy was our song, and grace our theme;
A grace beyond our hopes so great,
That joy appear'd a fleeting dream.

The scoffer owns thy hand, and pays
Unwilling honors to thy name;
While all with pleasure shout thy praise,
With cheerful notes thy love proclaim.

When we review'd our dismal fears,
We could not think they'd vanish'd so;
With God we left our flowing tears;
He makes our joys like rivers flow.