Classic Poem

Thou Lord, who by thy wise Decree,
Do'st our Contingency dispose;
Make me thy constant mercyes see,
In the advantage of my Foes.

Thou canst their Councells turn away,
And their devices ruinate:
Who all my secrets open lay,
To work me in my Peoples hate.

To thy Omniscience I repair,
Witness with my Integrity,
How false the wrested Comments are,
Which they to what I write apply.

The ill directed by their Aim
To me; so turn upon their Head,
That they may be involv'd in shame;
And with Confusion over-spread.

Thou seest with what malicious Art,
They seek to cloud me with disgrace:
But give me a submissive Heart,
Dishonour for thy sake t'embrace.

Make me intent to honour thee,
And I in Honour shall abound;
Restor'd to my first Dignity,
Or else with equal Patience crown'd.

Thou art in Majesty array'd!
Goodnes and Glory from Thee spring:
With Wisdome, Justice, Mercy aid,
I shall not want what fits a King.

Thou the Exalter of my Head,
In Thee is my Salvation plac't:
Lord by thy Grace to Glory lead,
Which to Eternitie shall last.