Classic Poem

Eternal praise to thee, my God,
Who guards me when the danger's nigh,
Preventing all my steps abroad
From lighting on the serpent sly.

How near was I to death's cold shade,
When the other step had been my last,
But thou art still my constant aid,
Both for the present and the past.

When wandering through the desart gloom,
No thought had I of death so near;
No thought, in youth's progressing bloom,
That life was just concluding here!

Or, had thy vision so decreed,
That his cursed head should bruise my heel;
And, for my sins, that I should bleed,
Thy judgment had been righteous still.

The subtle poisin through each vein,
Had then thy God-like image foiled,
And, through excess of rage and pain,
Faint nature had in death recoiled. —

Since God of me hath mindful been,
To guard me from this treacherous foe,
My endless praises he shall win
And all the world his mercies know.