Classic Poem

Our God is mercifully touch'd
With pity to the poor;
He saves the humble one, and such
As do his aid implore.

To these submissive to his lash,
He's in his anger kind;
In favour he but wounds the flesh,
That he may teach the mind.

Sharp and severe his stripes may be,
But then they strike out light,
By which th' afflicted clearly see,
And learn to judge aright.

His hands in love do them chastise,
And to their duty draw;
Through grace his scourges makes them wise,
When they forget his law.