Classic Poem

Hear, O Lord, and weigh the motions
Of my spirit as I kneel,
Stoop to my sincere devotions,
Which to love and truth appeal.

And arraign me, not demanding
Strict account for every deed,
For at thy tribunal standing
Sinners no excuse can plead.

For the fiend of persecution
Has depress'd my life with those,
Whom in death and dissolution
Darkness and the grave inclose.

Hence my spirit is tormented,
Fretting with affliction's thorn,
And my heart is discontented,
And within my breast forlorn.

Yet I will indulge reflexion
As upon thy works I muse;
Yea, in thought to sooth dejection,
All thy wonders I peruse.

To thy throne my hands extending
In the spirit I complain,
And I gasp for grace descending,
As a thirsty land for rain.

Hear me, Lord, with expedition,
For my spirit faints with care,
Hide thee not from my contrition,
Lest a death-like form I wear.

Early with the rising morning
To my faith thy grace decree,
With thy word my conduct warning,
For I lift my soul to thee.

Lord, by Christ his intercession
From my furious foes release,
For I flee to take possession
Thro' his merits of thy peace.

Teach me that correct behaviour
Which is pleasing in thy sight;
For thou art my Lord and Saviour,
Speed me to the realms of light.

Lord, from this despondence rousing,
For the glory of thy name,
And my righteous cause espousing,
Bring my soul from bonds and shame.

And my foes and evil neighbours,
Lord, by charity controul;
For I dedicate my labours
To the Saviour of my soul.