Classic Poem

Who duly shall the poor regard,
Hath his reward;
The Lord, in time of trouble, shall
Prevent his fall;
He shall among the living rest,
And with the earth's increase be blest.

Lord, render him not up to those
Who are his foes;
When he in sorrow languisheth,
Near unto death;
Let him by Thee be comforted,
And in his sickness make his bed,

I said, O Lord, Thy mercy show,
And health bestow;
For O! my soul the loathsome stains
Of sin retains.
My foes have said, When shall he die,
And yet outlive his memory?

If any visit, they devise
Deceitful lies;
Their hollow hearts with mischief load,
Divulg'd abroad;
Who hate me, whisper, and contrive,
How they may swallow me alive.

Behold, say they, this punishment
From heav'n is sent;
He from the bed whereon he lies,
Shall never rise.
Yea, ev'n my friend, my confident,
My guest, his heel against me bent.

But, Lord, Thy mercy I implore,
My health restore;
O raise me, that forthwith I may
Their hate repay.
In this Thy love Thou dost express,
That none triumph in my distress.

For Thou art of my innocence
The strong defence.
I shall, enlighten'd by Thy grace,
Behold Thy face.
Jehovah, Israel's God, be blest,
While day and night the world invest.