Will ye be partial to his person too?

And act as bribed, and wicked judges do?
Unreas'nably will ye contend for God?
And justify the chast'nings of His rod?
Assert His dealings equal to my sin,
Regardless, too, of what my life has been?
Would it be well, if He should search you out?
In life, and character, by grief, and doubt?
Can ye deride, and mock His mighty plan,

As wicked man doth mock his fellow man?
If ye do persons secretly accept,
From rank or wealth, or reasons private kept;
Although the person God himself might be,
He'll yet rebuke, and sorely punish thee.
Shall not His majesty awaken fear?
And check your fallacies, so insincere ?
Shall not His dread inspire a sacred awe?
And silence sophistries about his law?
Your poor rememb'rances, like ashes fine,
No force tenacious in themselves combine.
The apothegms you pompously recite,
Are words of dust to vindicate the right;
The towers you build to guard you from attack,
Are walls of mud that strength, and safety lack.
Then hold your peace, and let me now alone,
That I may speak, in words of plaintive tone;
And what on me, afflicted, sore, and dumb,
Is doomed to fall, upon me, let it come.

But why my skin, and withered flesh beneath,
Do I now take within my gnashing teeth?
Or why courageously my fate withstand,
And put my life within my feeble hand?
Although he slay me, with destruction grim,
My soul shall trust forevermore in him.
My ways before him I will yet maintain,
And my integrity shall still remain.
My great salvation he shall also be,
For lo! no hypocrite his face shall see.
Attentively my earnest speeches hear,
My declarations with a pitying ear.
And now, behold, I've ordered all my cause,
In strict obedience to his heavenly laws;
Thẹ law and witnesses are on my side,
And hence I know I shall be justified.
But who is he that now, with me, will plead?
Espouse the cause, and let the case proceed?
For now, in silence, if I hold my tongue,
My soul, from grief, will out of me be wrung.
But only two things do not thou to me,
And then myself will I not hide from thee.
Withdraw thy hand, and let it far be staid,
Nor let thy glory make me sore afraid.
Then summon me, and I will answer thee,
Or let me speak, and thou reply to me.
Relieved from pain, and free from my disease,
Restored to vigor, mental health, and ease;

Composed, serene, and hopeful I will stand,
And take my trial, and the right demand.
How many mine iniquities have been!

How vast, in multitude, has been my sin!
My great transgression make me now to know,
My sins, unnumbered, clearly to me show.
Why hidest thou thy gracious face from me?
And holdest me to be thine enemy?

Wilt thou destroy a leaf that swift is driven?
Wilt thou pursue the stubble, dry and riven?
For bitter things against me thou dost write,
And sins of youth against my soul indite.
My gory feet thou puttest in the stocks,
Composed of strong, and cruel wooden-blocks;
And lookest narrowly to ev'ry way,

My froward feet may ever chance to stray.
A signet print is set upon my heels,
My great calamity my spirit feels.

And thus, in rottenness, I waste away,
As garments perish, and, with moths, decay.
But man that's born of woman frail and fair,
How few his days, and full of anxious care?
Perplexed, and tried, and persecuted sore,
How full of troubles, and forebodings more?
He cometh forth as blooms the morning flower,
With tender leaves, and blossoms' richest dower;
With blushing beauties, purpling o'er his face,
And infant dimples, filled with smiling grace.