Classic Poem

Then Job: " Though my complaints observe no bounds,
Yet O, how far less bitter than my wounds!
Would His divine recess to me were known,
That I at length might plead before His throne!
I would such weighty arguments enforce
As should convert His fury to remorse.
Then should my longing soul His answer hear:
Would he object His pow'r, or daunt with fear?
O no, His goodness rather would impart
New vigour and repair my broken heart.
He would the plea of innocence admit,
And me for ever by His sentence quit.
But is not to be found; though I should run
To those disclosing portals of the sun,
And walk his way, until his horses steep
Their fiery fetlocks in th' Iberian deep;
Or should I to th' opposed poles repair,
Where equal cold congeals the fixed air,
And yet His searching eyes my paths behold,
When He hath tried me I shall shine like gold;
For in His tract my wary feet have stept,
His undeclined ways precisely kept;
Nor ever have revolted from His laws,
To me more sweet than food to hungry jaws.
But He is still the same, (O, who can shun
Or change his fate!) what He decrees is done.
This truth behold in me: His mysteries
Are sacred, and conceal'd from mortal eyes.
I therefore tremble at His dreadful sight;
Distracted thoughts my troubled soul affright.
For oh, His terror melts my heart to tears,
Dissolves my brain, and harrows me with fears,
Who neither would by death prevent my woes,
Nor ease my soul in these her bitter throes. "