James Merrick Psalm 10

James Merrick Psalm 10

Say, Lord, why thus thy aiding pow'r
 * Deserts us in the needful hour,

Why clouds impervious, round thee roll'd,
 * Thy presence from our sight withhold.

Shall impious men escape thy view,
 * While thus the guiltless they pursue?

O let them, by themselves chastis'd,
 * The ills sustain for him devis'd,

Nor longer boast their mad desires,
 * And acts which headlong rage inspires,

Or joyous grasp their lawless gain,
 * And thee, the soul's best wealth, disdain.

Proud wretch! who shuns o'er Nature's face
 * The footsteps of thy care to trace,

And thee, th'all-potent Monarch, thee
 * Denies, who gav'st himself to be.

Behold, while, high above all height,
 * Thy judgements, Lord, his distant sight

Elude, this minister of woe
 * Blast with his breath each obvious foe.

"See, proof to each assault I stand:
 * What pow'r shall e'er my fear demand?

What ill, to life's remotest day,
 * Obstruct the tenor of my way?"

His venom'd lips, with curses fraught,
 * Words ill according to his thought

Have utter'd, and beneath his tongue
 * Lurk fraud, and violence, and wrong.

Beside the solitary way,
 * Intent the helpless poor to stay,

He waits, and with malignant eye
 * Insidious marks each passer by.

As, couch'd within his bushy lair,
 * The lion fierce with hideous glare

Around him casts his wide survey,
 * And meditates the future prey,

So longs the man of blood to seize
 * The souls that own thy just decrees:

When, planted with successful care,
 * His nets their captive feet insnare,

What, Lord, his fury shall withstand,
 * Or save them from the murth'rous band,

That, leagu'd in sin, assist his toil,
 * And share with him the guilty spoil?

"Shall Heav'n's high Lord", he cries, "descend
 * The human actions to attend?

The paths by me at will pursu'd
 * His mem'ry and his thought elude."

Rise, mightiest Lord, and lift thy hand,
 * Nor let the injur'd poor demand

Thy saving aid with fruitless pray'r,
 * But guard them by thy fost'ring care.

Why should the souls, who thee decry,
 * With impious tongues reproachful cry,

"'Tis not within th'Almighty's plan
 * To scrutinize the acts of man?"

What eyes, like thine, eternal Sire,
 * Through sin's obscurest depths inquire?

What judge, like thee, on virtue's foes
 * The needful vengeance can impose?

The meek observer of thy laws
 * To thee commits his injur'd cause;

In thee, each anxious fear resign'd,
 * The fatherless a father find.

O, break the arm of impious might;
 * So shall their threats no more excite

Our dread, nor thy offended eye
 * The triumphs of their guilt descry.

Thine is the throne: beneath thy reign,
 * Immortal King! the tribes profane

Behold their dreams of conquest o'er,
 * And vanish to be seen no more.

Thou, Lord, thy people's wish canst read,
 * E'er from their lips the pray'r proceed;

'Tis thine their drooping hearts to rear,
 * And when they call incline thine ear;

'Tis thine the orphan's cheek to dry,
 * The guiltless suff'rer's cause to try,

To rein each earthborn tyrant's will,
 * And bid the sons of pride be still.