Classic Poem

O God! since all thy Ways are just,
Why does thy heavy Hand
So sore afflict the wretched Dust
Thou didst to Life command!

Thou speak'st the Word, the senseless Clay
Was quick'ned with thy Breath,
Cheerless to view the Beams of Day,
And seek the Shades of Death.

Thro' every Scene of Life distressed,
As Daughter, Mother, Wife;
When wilt thou close my Eyes in Rest,
And take my weary Life.

To thee past, present, and to come,
Are ever-more the same;
Thou knew'st of all my Woes the Sum,
" Ere I my Thoughts cou'd frame.

'Twas thou gav'st Passion to my Soul,
And Reason also gave,
Why didst thou not make Reason rule,
And Passion be its Slave?

O pardon me, thou Pow'r Divine!
That thus I dare presume
At thy Correction to repine,
Or murmur at my Doom.
Lord, give me Penitence sincere
For ev'ry Error past,
And tho' my Trials are severe,
O give me Peace at last.