Classic Poem

Hear me, O God! nor hide thy face,
But answer, lest I die;
Hast thou not built a throne of grace,
To hear when sinners cry?

My days are wasted like the smoke,
Dissolving in the air;
My strength is dried, my heart is broke,
And sinking in despair.

My spirits flag, like with'ring grass,
Burnt with excessive heat;
In secret groans my minutes pass,
And I forget to eat.

As on some lonely building's top,
The sparrow tells her moan;
Far from the tents of joy and hope,
I sit and grieve alone.

My soul is like a wilderness,
Where beasts of midnight howl;
There the sad raven finds her place,
And there the screaming owl.

Dark, dismal thoughts, and boding fears,
Dwell in my troubled breast;
While sharp reproaches wound my ears,
Nor give my spirit rest.

My cup is mingled with my woes,
And tears are my repast;
My daily bread like ashes grows,
Unpleasant to my taste.