Classic Poem

Great things are done of God most high,
Which finite search exceed;
Things numberless which ev'ry eye
With admiration feed.

His providence most marvellous,
When least 'tis understood:
Yet still is just and righteous,
Still merciful and good.

He spreads his clouds upon the skies,
Surprising to behold!
And forms his rain drops shape and size,
Into an unknown mould.

Then he his waters from on high,
Upon the mountains pours;
And on the valleys plenteously
He sheds prolific show'rs.

He sets the servant that was low,
Into the master's place;
And wipes the tears of grief and wo
From off the mourner's face.

He disappoints the crafty men,
Their projects undermines;
He makes their deep devices vain,
And blasts their great designs.

He takes his wise politic foes,
In their own craftiness;
Their froward counsels overthrows,
That would his saints oppress.

Against themselves he turns their arts,
Confounds their wicked schemes;
Their proud and lofty hopes subverts,
And frustrates all their aims.

They, by their plots, themselves benight,
And into darkness run:
Mistake their way, obscure their light,
And grope for day at noon.

But God th' oppressors' rage o'erthrows,
Their swords and spears doth break;
And from the proud and mighty foes,
Protects the poor and weak.

Thus to the poor he kindly doth
Afford reviving hopes;
And then the black and bloody mouth
Of fierce injustice stops.

The poor and humble are advanc'd,
To peace and safety given;
And foes asham'd that fought against
The favourites of heaven.