Classic Poem

IS he, alas! allow'd
To range this earth at will;
The prince of darkness, with his crowd
Of demons bent on ill?

Is he, whose envious guile
Seduc'd incautious Eve,
Suffer'd to practice every wile
Her offspring to deceive?

As the fierce lion prowls
For rapine, through the wood;
Does this fierce spirit hunt our souls,
Athirst for human blood?

Can he present the charm
That will our passions fire?
Our bosoms can his fury storm
With criminal desire?

Mysterious, mournful state
Of man beneath the sun!
But who a claim will arrogate,
To blame what God has done?

Children, your Father's name
In thankful song resound.
The great Redeemer sing, who came
Your enemy to confound.

Trust in his pow'r, confide
In his benevolent heart.
By the bold tempter he was try'd,
He baffled all his art.

Trust in his promise; stand,
Resolv'd, against the foe:
The coward, at his dread command,
Shall flee to hell below.