1 All-clement God, that know'st my honest Mind;
In thee from ill a sure relief I find;
Oft in my sad distress, thou'st giv'n release;
Again my soul implores her wonted peace;
Benign, O listen to thy servant's pray'r;
Have mercy on me, Lord, in pity spare.
2 Ye hapless sons of men, what frenzy sways?
How long 'gainst me your calumnies you'll raise?
How long indulge your vile malignant spite?
How long in killing slanders take delight?
3 To your confusion know, the Godhead loves
The man, who by his works his duty proves;
Nor, when in humble guise I to him plain,
Shall his obedient servant plead in vain.
4 Stand then, ye wretches, of his pow'r in awe
Nor sin presumptuous 'gainst his sacred law;
Reflect your actions in the silent night
Your hearts will own you guilty in his sight,
6 The heedless many in vain riches trust,
And hope, their pray'rs for opulence, are just:
But I more happy, if thy light divine
On my glad soul in it's full radiance shine;
7 More happy, thou, my only joy and hope,
Than when the nectar sparkles in my cup;
Than when with corn my granaries abound,
And loaded olives croud the fertile ground.
8 Yes, my good God, I'll lay me down in peace;
I'll sleep, devoid of care, secure of ease;
Thou, only thou, canst dissipate my grief,
From foes give safety, and from pain relief.
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