Classic Poem

Rid of a vexing and a heavy load
Eternal Lord! and from the world set free,
Like a frail Bark, weary I turn to Thee,
From frightful storms into a quiet road.
On much repentance grace will be bestowed:
The nails, the thorns, and thy two hands, thy face,
Benign, meek, lacerated, offers grace
To sinners whom their sins oppress and goad.
Let not thy justice view, O light divine,
My fault and keep it from thy sacred ear,
And do not that way turn thine arm severe;
Cleanse with thy blood my sins: to this incline
More readily, the more my years require
Prompt aid, forgiveness speedy and entire.