Classic Poem

O what is man, that worthless wight!
That God should condescend
To magnify him, and in might
With such a rush contend!

On brittle man, from dust brought forth,
Wilt thou indeed bestow
Such honour great! or is he worth
Thy notice or thy blow?

Is such a mortal fit to be
The object of thy rage;
Wilt thou thy strong artillery
Against a worm engage?

Or if it is thy kindly aim,
By this thy chast'ning rod,
The wand'ring sinner to reclaim,
And bring him back to God:

Still what is man, a bit of clay,
That so incessantly
Thou dost him visit every day,
And every moment try.

Lord, I have sinn'd, what shall I do,
O thou preserver great?
Remit my guilt, remove my woe,
And all my faults forget.