Classic Poem

Part I.

M Y God, my Glory, leave not in distress,
Nor let prevailing fraud the truth oppress.
They who delight in subtleties and wrongs,
Afflict me with the poison of their tongues;
With slander and detraction gird me round,
And would, without a cause, my life confound.
Good turns with evil proudly recompense,
And love with hate; my merit, my offence.
But I in these extremes to Thee repair,
And pour out my perplexed soul in pray'r.
Subject him to a tyrant's stern command,
Subverting Satan place at his right hand;
Found guilty when arraign'd; in that fear'd time
Let his rejected pray'rs augment his crime.
May he by violence untimely die,
And let another his command supply.
Let his distressed widow weep in vain,
His wretched orphans to deaf ears complain.
Let them the wand'ring paths of exile tread,
And in unpeopled deserts seek their bread.
Let griping usurers divide his spoil,
And strangers reap the harvest of his toil.

Part II.

In his long mis'ry may he find no friend,
None to his race so much as pity lend.
Let his posterity be overthrown,
Their names to the succeeding age unknown.
Let not the Lord his father's sins forget,
His mother's infamy before him set.
O let them be the object of His eye,
Till He out-root their hated memory;
That to the wretched would no mercy show,
But cruelly pursu'd his overthrow;
Laid trains to kill the broken and contrite.
On his own head let his dire curses light.
He hated blessing, never be he blest;
Let cursing, like a robe, his loins invest,
And like a fatal girdle gird him round,
As he with execrations did abound.
Let them, like water, in his bowels boil,
And eat into his bones like burning oil.
Thus let the Lord reward my enemies,
Who seek to blast me with malicious lies.

Part III.

But, Lord, in my deliverance proclaim
Thy mercy, for the honour of Thy Name.
For I am poor, with misery oppress'd,
My wounded heart bleeds in my panting breast.
I like the ev'ning shadow am declin'd,
And like the locust toss'd with ev'ry wind.
My feeble knees beneath their burden bend,
My flesh with fasting falls, my bones ascend,
Reproach hath seiz'd on me; my foes revile,
And in derision shake their heads, and smile.
My God, O snatch me from the swallowing grave!
Thy servant with accustom'd mercy save;
That they may know it was Thy pow'rful Hand,
And how I by Divine supportance stand.
Still may they vainly curse whom Thou dost bless,
And pine with envy at my good success.
Let them be cloth'd with shame: O be their own
Confusion on them like a mantle thrown.
But I Thy praise will duly celebrate,
And to the multitude Thy deeds relate,
That hast th' afflicted soul from sorrow freed,
And from their snares who had his death decreed.