Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PSALM 22. DEUS DEUS MEUS, by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PSALM 22. DEUS DEUS MEUS, by            
First Line: My god, my god, why hast thou me forsaken?
Last Line: His righteousness, and this his doing glorious.


My God, my God, why hast Thou me forsaken?
Woe me, from me why is Thy presence taken?
So far from seeing mine unhealthful eyes,
So far from hearing to my roaring cries.
O God, my God, I cry while day appeareth;
But, God, Thy ear my crying never heareth.
O God, the night is privy to my plaint,
Yet to my plaint Thou hast not audience lent.
But Thou art holy and dost hold Thy dwelling
Where Israel Thy lauds is ever telling;
Our Fathers still in Thee their trust did bear,
They trusted and by Thee delivered were.
They were set free when they upon Thee called,
They hoped on Thee, and they were not appalled.
But I a worm, not I of mankind am,
Nay shame of men, the people's scorning game.
The lookers now at me, poor wretch, be mocking,
With mows and nods they stand about me flocking.
Let God help him (say they) whom he did trust;
Let God save him, in whom was all his lust.
And yet even from the womb Thyself did'st take me;
At mother's breasts, Thou didst good hope betake me.
No sooner my child eyes could look abroad
Than I was given to Thee, Thou wert my God.
O be not far, since pain so nearly presseth,
And since there is not one who it redresseth.
I am enclosed with young bull's madded route,
Nay Bashan mighty bulls close me about.
With gaping mouths, these folks on me have charged,
Like lions fierce, with roaring jaws enlarged.
On me all this, who do like water slide;
Whose loosed bones quite out of joint be wried;
Whose heart with these huge flames, like wax o'er heated,
Doth melt away though it be inmost seated.
My moistening strength is like a potsherd dried,
My cleaving tongue close to my roof doth bide.
And now am brought, alas, brought by Thy power
Unto the dust of my death's running hour;
For bawling dogs have compassed me about,
Yea, worse than dogs, a naughty wicked rout.
My humble hands, my fainting feet they pierced;
They look, they gaze, my bones might be rehearsed;
Of my poor weeds they do partition make
And do cast lots who should my vesture take.
But be not far, O Lord, my strength, my comfort;
Hasten to help me in this deep discomfort.
Ah! from the sword yet save my vital sprite,
My desolated life from dogged might.
From lion's mouth, O help, and show to hear me
By aiding when fierce unicorns come near me.
To brethren then I will declare Thy fame,
And with these words, when they meet, praise Thy name.
Who fear the Lord, all praise and glory bear him;
You Israel's seed, you come of Jacob, fear him.
For he hath not abhored nor yet disdained
The silly wretch with foul affliction stained,
Nor hid from him His face's fair appearing;
But when he called, this Lord did give him hearing.
In congregation great I will praise Thee,
Who fear Thee shall my vows performed see.
The afflicted then shall eat, and be well pleased,
And God shall be by those his seekers praised,
Indeed, O you, you that be such of mind,
You shall the life that ever liveth find.
But what? I say from earth's remotest border
Unto due thoughts mankind his thoughts shall order,
And turn to God, and all the nations be
Made worshippers before almighty Thee.
And reason, since the crown to God pertaineth,
And that by right upon all realms He reigneth.
They that be made even fat, with earth's fat good,
Shall feed and laud the giver of their food.
To Him shall kneel who to the dust be stricken,
Even he whose life no help of man can quicken.
As they, so theirs, Him shall their offspring serve,
And God shall them in His own court reserve.
They shall to children's children make notorious
His righteousness, and this His doing glorious.





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