Classic Poem

O happy are they that have forgiveness got
Of their offence, not by their penitence,
As by merit, which recompenseth not
(Although that yet pardon hath none offence
Without the same), but by the goodness
Of him that hath perfect intelligence
Of heart contrite and cover'th the greatness
Of sin within a merciful discharge.
And happy are they that have the wilfulness
Of lust retrained, afore it went at large,
Provoked by the dread of God's furor;
Whereby they have not on their backs the charge
Of other's fault to suffer the dolour,
For that their fault was never execute
In open sight, example of error.
And happy is he to whome God doth impute
No more his fault, by knowledging his sin,
But cleansed now the Lord doth him repute,
As adder fresh new stripped from his skin,
Nor in his sprite is aught undiscovered.
I, for because I hid it still within,
Thinking by state in fault to be preferred,
Do find by hiding of my fault my harm —
As he that feels his health to be hindered
By secret wound, concealed from the charm
Of leech's cure, that else had had redress —
And feel my bones consume and wax unfarm
By daily rage roaring in excess.
Thy heavy hand on me was so increast
Both day and night and held my heart in press,
With pricking thoughts bereaving me my rest,
That withered is my lustiness away
As summer heats that hath the grain oppressed.
Wherefore I did another way assay
And sought forthwith to open in thy sight
My fault, my fear, my filthiness, I say,
And not to hide from thee my great unright.
" I shall," quod I, " against myself confess
Unto the Lord all my sinful plight."
And thou forthwith didst wash the wickedness
Of mine offence; of truth right thus it is.
Wherefore they that have tasted thy goodness
At me shall take example as of this
And pray and seek in time for time of grace.
Then shall the storms and floods of harm him miss
And him to reach shall never have the space.
Thou art my refuge and only safeguard
From the troubles that compass me the place.
Such joy as he that scapes his en'my's ward
With loosed bonds hath in his liberty,
Such joy, my joy, thou hast to me prepared;
That as the seaman in his jeopardy
By sudden light perceived hath the port,
So by thy great merciful property
Within thy look thus read I my comfort:
" I shall thee teach and give understanding
And point to thee what way thou shalt resort
For thy address, to keep thee from wand'ring.
Mine eye shall take the charge to be thy guide.
I ask thereto of thee alone this thing:
Be not like horse or mule that man doth ride
That not alone doth not his master know
But, for the good thou dost him, must be tied
And bridled lest his guide he bite or throw."
O diverse are the chastisings of sin:
In meat, in drink, in breath that man doth blow,
In sleep, in watch, in fretting still within
That never suffer rest unto the mind
Filled with offence, that new and new begin
With thousand fears the heart to strain and bind.
But for all this he that in God doth trust
With mercy shall himself defended find.
Joy and rejoice, I say, ye that be just,
In him that mak'th and holdeth you so still.
In him your glory alway set you must,
All ye that be of upright heart and will.