From my Youth up, may Israel say

Verse 1

From my Youth up, may Israel say, They oftentimes have me assail'd; Reduc'd me oft to heavy Straits, But never yet have quite previl'd: They plow'd my Back with Furrows long; But GOD has recu'd us from Wrong.

Verse 2

Defeat, Confusion, shameful Rout Ne still the dreadful Doom of those, Their righteous Doom, who Sion hate, And Sion's holy GOD oppose: Like corn that's wither'd, let them fade, Which too much Heat, and want of Root, Untimely blasted in the Blade.

Verse 3

Which in his Arms no Reaper takes, But in the Field neglected leaves; Nor Binder thinks it worth his Pains To fold and gather into Sheaves: Nor Traveller vouchsafes to stop, And crave a Blessing on the Crop.