Classic Poem

Lord, save me from his wicked lure
Who for corruption strives;
And make, thro' grace, my rescue sure
From men of lawless lives;

From men, who mischief, for the sake
Of mischief, still conceive,
And keep the coals of wrath awake
From early day till eve

Their tongue, by malice sharpen'd, works
With anger and untruth;
The venom of the viper lurks
Beneath their lip and tooth

O Lord, preserve me from the hand
Of wickedness and force,
And from the godless men, who band
To overthrow my course.

The wealthy world's imperious lords
Have spread abroad their net,
And aim'd to take my feet with cords,
And traps which they have set

Unto my Saviour I profess'd
I have no God but Thee;
O hear me, as thy name is bless'd,
And meekness bends my knee.

O Lord, thou shalt my health sustain,
And art my helm and targe
Whenever in th' embattl'd plain
I join the furious charge.

Let not the wicked have his will,
Who wishes for the worst,
Nor his outrageous thoughts fulfill,
Lest sin with pride should burst.

Let those that compass me around,
Whose bitter words I feel,
Be saved themselves from every wound
They meditate or deal

Let not the flaming coals they blow
The mischief-makers burn,
Nor let them to those regions go
Whence soul nor flesh return.

A wordy man shall never reach
The point he has in view;
The consequence of evil speech
The babbler shall pursue

I have a sure and certain sign
Of comfort in my soul,
That Jesus will the helpless join,
And with his woes condole

The righteous also shall give thanks
To thine eternal might,
And he shall mingle with the ranks
Of angels in thy sight.