Strict silence keep not, sov'reign Lord--behold

Verse 1

Strict silence keep not, sov'reign Lord--behold; How impious men in horrid guilt are bold;

Verse 2

What fraudful snares against my soul they scheme, In what calumnious terms they blast my name,

Verse 3

'Gainst me in causeless hatred they engage, And ask my life the victim of their rage:

Verse 4

My proffer'd love, my friendship they oppose, And, 'cause I'd be their friend, become my foes Their hearts such vile ingratitude has sway'd, With base returns my favours they repay'd. Howe'er in pray'r to thee I solace find, To thee who know'st each secret of my mind,

Verse 5

But give o'er him some cruel prince command. Let some dire demon at his elbow stand;

Verse 6

If 'fore the dread tribunal he appear, Trembling, let him th' impartial sentence hear; The mercy of his judge may he intreat In vain, and may his pray'r but irritate

Verse 7

Few be his days, and sudden may he bleed, And let a stranger to his home succeed;

Verse 8

May his 'lorn widow and his orphan-race Be vagabonds, and roam from place to place,

Verse 9

Beg for their bread, yet not receive relief, Nor one kind friend commiserate their grief;

Verse 10

While base extortioners his goods possess, And heirs unknown on all his treasures seize.

Verse 11

May he and may his children plead in vain For mercy, and may all their suit disdain;

Verse 12

Nay; let his progeny be all destroy'd, Sunk be his name, and his memorial void.

Verse 13

Remember, Lord, th' offences of his fire, And let his mother's guilt increase thine ire;

Verse 14

Their ev'ry crime thy piercing eyes explore, Till earth shall hear their cursed names no more.

Verse 15

For he the needy never wou'd relieve, Nor to th' afflicted kind assistance give; From their petitions turn'd his face away, And call'd it joy the guileless soul to slay.

Verse 16

As cursing was his dear, his sole delight, On his own head his imprecations light; As never from his tongue a blessing fell, Let none e'er give him joy, or wish him well.

Verse 17

As he his soul with curses has array'd, May they, like oil, his very bones pervade, Into his bowels, swift as waters, stream, And the whole man with deadly pangs enflame;

Verse 18

Their dire effects O may he ever feel, Nor have it in his pow'r their wounds to heal.

Verse 19

Be this, just God, their lot, that harass me, And vex my soul with cruel calumny.

Verse 20

But me, great God, thy goodness still defend, And for thy mercy's sake be still my friend;

Verse 21

For poor I am; in sore diftrefs I lie; Deep am I wounded; heavily I sigh:

Verse 22

Like a mere shadow on a summer's day, Weak and infirm, my substance wears away; Tost to and fro, in devious paths I rove, Like locusts ranging o'er the leafy grove.

Verse 23

My feeble limbs their wonted aid refuse, And all my beauty, all my strength, I lose:

Verse 24

My foes with proud disdain my peace invade, And, scornful, shake at my distress the head.

Verse 25

But save me, Lord, and let thy servant live; O let thy mercy plead; sweet solace give;

Verse 26

That all may know, thy hand defends my cause, My soul her solace from thy goodness draws:

Verse 27

With bitter imprecations while they foam, On me the blessings of thy mercy come; While dire confusion all their peace destroy, O fill my faithful heart with solid joy.

Verse 28

Let them who load with calumnies my fame, Be with dishonour cloath'd, and lost in shame.

Verse 29

Then to my God my grateful voice I'll raise, And in the throng'd assemblies hymn thy praise;

Verse 30

Sing, how the poor are objects of thy love, How thou their strength, their great support, wilt prove; How thou reliev'st them in their dire distress, And shield'st their pious souls, when foes oppress.