Classic Poem

What means my God? Why dost present to me
Such glorious objects? Can a blind man see?
Why dost thou call? Why dost thou beckon so?
Wouldst have me come? Lord, can a cripple go?
Or, why dost thou expect that I should raise
Thy glory with my voice: the dumb can't praise.
Unscale my dusky eyes; then I'll express
Thy glorious object's strong attractiveness:
Dip thou my limbs in thy Bethesda's lake —
I'll scorn my earthly crutches; I'll forsake
Myself: touch thou my tongue, and then I'll sing
An hallelujah to my glorious King:
Raise me from this grave — then I shall be
Alive, and I'll bestow my life on thee.
Till thou, Elijah-like, dost overspread
My limbs, I'm blind, I'm lame, I'm dumb — I'm dead!