Ask now, if there be one to speak again,
If there be any saint to hear thy call;—
For by a little wrath the fool is slain;
If envy smite him, he is sure to fall.
I mark'd his dwelling, fix'd in earthly state,
But suddenly I saw a curse was there;—
Crush'd are his children in the crowded gate;
In danger still, none saves them from the snare.
The substance of the foolish taketh wings;
For harvest time his hunger cannot stay;
His corn is pluck'd ere from the thorns it springs;
His wealth, unwatch'd, becomes the robber's prey.
For though our sorrow springeth not from earth,
Nor doth affliction from the dust arise,
Yet man is heir to trouble from his birth,
As surely as the fire-spark upward flies,
Then unto God my heart would seek alone,
And unto God would I commit my cause,
Whose mighty power, unsearchable, unknown,
His wondrous and unnumber'd works disclose.
Upon the thirsting earth His rain descends;
Upon the fields His cooling fountains flow;—
With chastisement His saving mercy blends,
And him He raiseth who is meekly low.
He snares the crafty by his own device,
And into headlong ruin turns his way—
Thus his own counsels for his loss suffice,
And bring night's darkness on his brightest day.
But from the hurtful sword He saves the poor,
And shields him from oppression and from wrong,
That he may rest in hope, and dread no more
The tyrant's iron hand—the scorner's tongue.
Despise not, then, the Almighty's chastening,
For happy is the man who feels his rod;—
The Hand that wounds doth balm and healing bring,
And for deliv'rance thou mayst trust thy God.
He bindeth up the sore and broken heart—
From six-fold troubles He shall set thee free—
Yea, from the seventh, unharm'd shalt thou depart,
Nor famine nor the sword shall light on thee.
For He will shield thee in the battle strife,
No evil tongue's fell blighting shalt thou dread;—
He from all peril will redeem thy life,
Nor famine nor destruction thou shalt heed.
The stony ground beneath thine hand shall yield ;
The savage beasts shall own thy gentle sway,
And from their haunts of desert and of field,
Shall, peaceful and unfear'd, around thee stray.
From thine affliction thou shalt wisdom learn,
And life shall brighten with thy years' increase;
Thou sinless shalt go forth, and so return—
And in thy tabernacle shall be peace.
Thine offspring multiplied thine eyes shall see,
As grass that clothes the plain, both great and blest;—
Like as the ripened corn thine age shall be,
Till, crown'd with years, thou gently sink to rest.
Lo! these are truths which we have searched and known,
Whereof the wisdom we have understood;—
Hear thou the lessons—take them for thine own;—
Such is our counsel—know it for thy good.