James Merrick Psalm 35

James Merrick Psalm 35

Do thou, just God, my cause defend,
 * O let thy pow'r its aid extend,

And make my quarrel thine; my foes
 * Let thy resistless pow'r oppose;

Arise thy speediest help to yield,
 * And reach the corslet, reach the shield,

Grasp in thy hand the glitt'ring lance,
 * And obvious in the breach advance;

Say to my troubled soul; 'In me
 * Thy strength and sure salvation see.'

Let shame their glowing cheeks o'erspread,
 * Whose ceaseless threats excite my dread,

And let them, struck with wild affright,
 * Inglorious backward urge their flight,

Dispers'd, as chaff before the wind,
 * Thy angel pressing close behind,

Along the dark and slipp'ry way,
 * Whose paths their stagg'ring steps betray,

And from the arm ethereal find
 * The vengeance to their guilt assign'd.

Thou seest them, Lord, with causeless hate,
 * Beside my path insidious wait,

With causeless hate the pit prepare,
 * And plant before my steps their snare.

O let destruction's sudden stroke,
 * While thus thy justice they provoke,

Descend, vindictive, on their head;
 * Fast in the net for me outspread

Involv'd, let each repentant groan,
 * And reap the mischiefs he has sown.

But thou, my soul, with awful joy
 * On God thy stedfast thought employ,

And, his salvation taught to prove,
 * Record the wonders of his love.

Each bone whose strength supports my frame
 * With grateful transport shall exclaim,

Lord! Whom like thee shall mortals find,
 * For ever just, for ever kind,

Like thee prepar'd th'afflicted poor
 * From stern oppression to secure.

Thus poor and thus oppress'd with wrong
 * Awhile was I: a hostile throng

(Whose tongue to fraus has loos'd the reins,
 * And lie with lie connected feigns)

Against me urg'd, to scandal prone,
 * The guilt my breast had never known,

And left me helpless and forlorn
 * The friendship ill repay'd to mourn,

That, when affliction's weight they bare,
 * Had taught my heart their woes to share:

While sickness wrapt them in its chain,
 * And fix'd them on the bed of pain,

My heart, that no affection ow'd,
 * With sympathizing pity glow'd.

I knew their suff'rings to bewail,
 * And sunk with grief, with fasting pale,

To God, in sorrow's garb array'd,
 * With humblest intercession pray'd,

And found the pray'r their pride has spurn'd
 * With blessings on my head return'd:

Dissolv'd in tears, with languour worn,
 * What misery my soul has borne!

Nor friend for friend sincerer woes,
 * Nor brother for a brother, knows;

Nor feels the son his melting breast
 * With deeper sense of grief impress'd,

That grasps a dying mother's hand,
 * And waits to take her last command,

Or o'er her loss in secret pines,
 * And wraps the sackcloth round his loins.

Not such the pity shown to me:
 * Ev'n abjects my abjection see

With scornful gaze, as round me stand,
 * In adverse league, a lawless band,

These taught with well-dissembled art
 * To veil the purpose of their heart,

While those in open hate engage,
 * And ceaseless vent their murth'rous rage,

Now furious grind their teeth, and now
 * Insulting aim the deathful blow.

How long wilt thou, my God, how long
 * With patient eye behold my wrong?

How long shall I, with anguish torn,
 * Thy face, my God, averted mourn?

With vain and fruitless hope attend
 * Till thou, my guardian and my friend,

The lion's dreaded rage control,
 * And rescue my deserted soul,

That, 'mid th'assembled tribes, my tongue
 * May raise to thee the thankful song?

O let not my uninjur'd foes
 * With speaking eye, amidst my woes,

As round they stand in close array,
 * The triumphs of their heart betray.

Behold them, Lord, their arts address,
 * The friends of peace and truth t'oppress,

But chief my name with insults load:
 * 'Thou wretch abandon'd of thy God,

In vain', they clamour, 'what our eyes
 * Attest, thy conscious tongue denies.'

My God, (for thou their rage hast seen,)
 * With timeliest succour intervene,

Nor silent long, Almighty Sire,
 * Remain, nor distant far retire.

Arise, thy saving pow'r disclose,
 * And heal with pitying hand my woes;

Awake, thy aiding strength excite,
 * Awake, and vindicate my right;

Let justice teach them, by thy stroke,
 * Their frantic triumphs to revoke;

Let not their heart, its wish complete,
 * With secret joy transported beat,

Or boasting hail th'expected hour,
 * That gives me to the murth'rer's pow'r;

But back my threaten'd life demand
 * From stern opression's iron hand:

Let all who make my grief their scorn
 * Their blasted hopes astonish'd mourn;

Let stern rebuke and foul disgrace
 * With shame perpetual clothe their face,

Lo, nigh me rang'd, with thankful voice
 * The friends of innocence rejoice,

And 'Blest,' they cry, 'be Jacob's Lord,
 * The God by heav'n and earth ador'd,

Who joys his servant's cause to plead,
 * And crowns with peace his favour'd head.'

While, loudest in the choir, my tongue
 * To notes of praise shall tune its song,

And pleas'd through each revolving day
 * Thy justice, mightiest Lord, display.