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.
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.
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.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | From my Youth up, may Israel say |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1767 |
Scripture: | |
Topic: | Description of: Oppression of the Church in all Ages; Prophecies: Predictions of God's Judgment upon the Ungodly and Wicked; Thanksgivings: For Delerances and Wonders, General |
Tune Information | |
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Name: | [From my Youth up, may Israel say] |
Key: | d minor |