Classic Poem

From out the deep with piercing strain
My soul express'd her grief,
O Lord, let piteous cries obtain
An audience and relief.

O ponder with paternal ears
The voice with which I pray,
And these my penitential tears
With melting eyes survey.

If thou, O Lord of endless bliss,
Shouldst rigid truth assume,
To try what mortals do amiss,
Who shall support his doom!

But pow'rful mercy is thine own
In Christ that dy'd for all,
And therefore trembling at thy throne
Shall adoration fall.

I look for God, and watch and fast
To purify my dust;
My soul shall in his precepts cast
The anchor of her trust.

My soul to God pursues her flight
When once his aid's withdrawn,
As guards nocturnal seek the light,
And watchmen wish for dawn.

O Israel, in the Lord your king
A firm reliance ground,
Through him redemption's living spring
Both grace and truth abound.

And he most surely shall redeem
The manners and the times,
And hallow by his pow'r supreme
All Israel from their crimes.