Classic Poem

O the distracting fears
Which rent my heart in twain;
The sighs, and groans, and bursting tears
Of sorrow's sharpest pain;

When first my God refrain'd
His mercy to pursue;
And, ere his work perfection gain'd,
His energy withdrew.

A deep and deadly gloom
O'er mental vision sweeps:
Benumbing cold, O fearful doom!
O'er mental feelings creeps.

I threw me at his feet,
In bitterness of heart:
My piercing cries assail'd his seat;
Will, will my God depart?

Is it thy way to leave
A turning sinner so?
Thy joy a broken heart to grieve,
And quench the smoking tow?

Ah! no—'tis thy delight
To hear confession's breath:
To set the straying footstep right
And save a soul from death.

O plentiful in love
O ready to forgive,
Let sighs and tears thy bowels move:
Say to a sinner, “live.”