Lord, judge me and my case, For I have made my race Within the bounds of innocence to bide, And setting Thee for scope Of all my trustful hope, I held for sure that I should never slide. Prove me, O Lord, most high, Me with Thy touchstone try, Yea, sound my reins, and inmost of my heart; For so Thy loving hand Before my eyes did stand That from Thy truth will not depart. I did not them frequent Who be to vainness bent, Nor kept with base dissemblers company; Nay I did even detest Of wicked wights the nest, And from the haunts of such bad folks did fly. In th' innocence of me My hands shall washed be, And with those hands about Thy altar wait, That I may still express With voice of thankfulness The works performed by Thee most wondrous great. Lord, I have loved well The house where Thou dost dwell, Ev'n where Thou makest Thy honor's biding place. Sweet Lord, write not my soul Within the sinners' roll, Nor my life's cause match with bloodseeker's case, Whose hands do handle nought, But led by wicked thought That hand whose strength should help of bribes is full. But in integrity My steps shall guided be, Then me redeem, Lord, then be merciful. Even truth that for me says My foot on justice stays, And tongue is prest to publish out Thy praise. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ROARING FROST by ALICE MEYNELL CASTOR AND POLYDEUCES by ALCAEUS OF MYTILENE INGRATITUDE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH WAYCONNELL TOWER by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM TO THE SOLITUDE OF FONTENAY by GUILLAUME AMFRYE PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 5. ALLAH-AL-KUDDUS by EDWIN ARNOLD |