 | The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth |  |
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THE PARALYTIC'S DEPRECATION.
Paralysis, thou ruthless fiend, forbear!
Drag not thy victim thus to fell despair!
Or art thou licensed by offended Heaven?
And has commission, then, to thee been given,
Around poor, erring mortals thus to throw
Thy iron shackles? Demon, let me go!
Why chain me thus? dissolve the spell! relent!
In vain I struggle, for my strength is spent.
In pity spare me! for I can not move
My limbs, nor lift my pinioned arms above,
In supplication to the throne of grace;
Hold, ruthless demon! for a little space.
Drag not thy victim thus to fell despair!
Or art thou licensed by offended Heaven?
And has commission, then, to thee been given,
Around poor, erring mortals thus to throw
Thy iron shackles? Demon, let me go!
Why chain me thus? dissolve the spell! relent!
In vain I struggle, for my strength is spent.
In pity spare me! for I can not move
My limbs, nor lift my pinioned arms above,
In supplication to the throne of grace;
Hold, ruthless demon! for a little space.
Father of mercies! humbled to the dust,
I here confess the visitation just;
For I have sinned against thy truth and grace,
And thus before thee lowly bend my face;
Confusion seals my lips, and ties my tongue,
But oh! remember what thy prophet sung:
That “thou art merciful and gracious” still,
To all who bow submissive to thy will;
Still “slow to anger,” merciful as just,
Oh give me hope! remember I am dust;
Thou wilt not always chide, nor anger bear
To crush a wretch that pleads with thee in prayer;
For, like the royal bard, by truth convicted,
I feel “'t is good for me to be afflicted,
That I might learn thy statutes” and thy law,
Whence all my consolations now I draw.
For ere affliction's cloud obscured my day,
How oft temptations lured my steps astray!
But now I keep thy word with zealous fear,
Oh, with thy pard'ning mercy still be near,
According to thy loving-kindness, Lord,
As thou hast promised sinners in thy word;
Oh blot out my transgressions; wash my soul,
From its pollutions—make the leper whole.
Hear my petition! make me to know, once more,
The “joy and gladness” which I knew before;
So shall my “broken bones again rejoice,”
And I will praise thee with a grateful voice!
I here confess the visitation just;
For I have sinned against thy truth and grace,
And thus before thee lowly bend my face;
Confusion seals my lips, and ties my tongue,
But oh! remember what thy prophet sung:
That “thou art merciful and gracious” still,
To all who bow submissive to thy will;
199
Oh give me hope! remember I am dust;
Thou wilt not always chide, nor anger bear
To crush a wretch that pleads with thee in prayer;
For, like the royal bard, by truth convicted,
I feel “'t is good for me to be afflicted,
That I might learn thy statutes” and thy law,
Whence all my consolations now I draw.
For ere affliction's cloud obscured my day,
How oft temptations lured my steps astray!
But now I keep thy word with zealous fear,
Oh, with thy pard'ning mercy still be near,
According to thy loving-kindness, Lord,
As thou hast promised sinners in thy word;
Oh blot out my transgressions; wash my soul,
From its pollutions—make the leper whole.
Hear my petition! make me to know, once more,
The “joy and gladness” which I knew before;
So shall my “broken bones again rejoice,”
And I will praise thee with a grateful voice!
| The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth | |