Classic Poem

O Lord, as I thee have both prayed and pray,
(Although in thee be no alteration
But that we men like as ourselves we say,
Measuring thy justice by our mutation)
Chastise me not, O Lord, in thy furor
Nor me correct in wrathful castigation.
For that thy arrows of fear, of terror,
Of sword, of sickness, of famine and fire
Sticks deep in me, I, lo, from mine error
Am plunged up, as horse out of the mire
With stroke of spur. Such is thy hand on me
That in my flesh for terror of thy ire
Is not one point of firm stability,
Nor in my bones there is no steadfastness:
Such is my dread of mutability
For that I know my frailful wickedness.
For why? My sins above my head are bound
Like heavy weight that doth my force oppress
Under the which I stoop and bow to ground
As willow plant haled by violence;
And of my flesh each not well cured wound
That festered is by folly and negligence
By secret lust hath rankled under skin,
Not duly cured by my penitence.
Perceiving thus the tyranny of sin
That with his weight hath humbled and depressed
My pride by grudging of the worm within
That never dieth, I live withouten rest.
So are mine entrails, infect with fervent sore,
Feeding the harm that hath my wealth oppressed
That in my flesh is left no health therefore.
So wondrous great hath been my vexation
That it hath forced my heart to cry and roar.
O Lord, thou know'st the inward contemplation
Of my desire. Thou know'st my sighs and plaints.
Thou know'st the tears of my lamentation
Cannot express my heart's inward restraints.
My heart panteth. My force I feel it quail.
My sight, mine eyes, my look decays and faints.
And when mine en'mies did me most assail,
My friends most sure wherein I set most trust —
Mine own virtues — soonest then did fail
And stand apart. Reason and wit unjust,
As kin unkind, were farthest gone at need.
So had they place their venom out to thrust
That sought my death by naughty word and deed.
Their tongues reproach, their wits did fraud apply.
And I like deaf and dumb forth my way yede,
Like one that hears not nor hath to reply
One word again. Knowing that from thy hand
These things proceed, thou, Lord, shalt supply
My trust in thee wherein I stick and stand.
Yet have I had great cause to dread and fear
That thou wouldst give my foes the overhand
For in my fall they shewed such pleasant cheer.
And therewithal I alway in the lash
Abide the stroke and with me everywhere
I bear my fault that greatly doth abash
My doleful cheer; for I my fault confess
And my desert doth all my comfort dash.
In the mean while mine en'mies safe increase
And my provokers hereby do augment,
That without cause to hurt me do not cease.
In evil for good against me they be bent
And hinder shall my good pursuit of grace.
Lo now, my God, that seest my whole intent,
My Lord, I am, thou know'st well, in what case.
Forsake me not. Be not far from me gone.
Haste to my help, haste, Lord, and haste apace,
O Lord, the Lord of all my health alone.