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From my youth up, may Israel say
they oft have me assailed;
Reduced me oft to heavy straits,
but never quite prevailed.
They oft have plowed my patient back
with furrows deep and long;
But our just God has broke their chains,
and rescued us from wrong.
Defeat, confusion, shameful rout
be still the doom of those,
Their righteous doom, who Zion hate
and Zion's God oppose.
Like corn upon our houses' tops,
untimely let them fade,
Which too much heat, and want of root,
has blasted in the blade.
Which in his arms no reaper takes,
but unregarded leaves;
No binder thinks it worth his pains
to fold it into sheaves.
No traveler that passes by
vouchsafes a minute's stop,
To give it one kind look, or crave
Heav'n's blessing on the crop.
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marker 99
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LYRICS
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Meter:
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8 6 8 6 (C.M.)
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Writer(s):
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Trans/Adapted:
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Dates:
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1696
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Bible Refs:
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Ps 129;
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LIST OF LYRIC SOURCES
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Hymn/Song Book
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Year
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Song #
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| 1821 | # 129 |
echo ' | ';
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Hymn Writer
