Classic Poem

O do not use me
After my sins! look not on my desert,
But on thy glory! then thou wilt reform
And not refuse me: for thou only art
The mighty God, but I a silly worm;
O do not bruise me!

O do not urge me!
For what account can thy ill steward make?
I have abused thy stock, destroyed thy woods,
Sucked all thy magazines: my head did ache,
Till it found out how to consume thy goods:
O do not scourge me!

O do not blind me!
I have deserved that an Egyptian night
Should thicken all my powers; because my lust
Hath still sewed fig-leaves to exclude thy light:
But I am frailty, and already dust;
O do not grind me!
O do not fill me
With the turned vial of thy bitter wrath!
For thou hast other vessels full of blood,
A part whereof my Saviour emptied hath,
Ev'n unto death: since he died for my good,
O do not kill me!

But O reprieve me!
For thou hast life and death at thy command;
Thou art both Judge and Saviour, feast and rod ,
Cordial and Corrosive : put not thy hand
Into the bitter box; but O my God,
My God, relieve me!