O let me not the vengeance share
That waits the guilty tribe,
Whose murth’rous hands each mischief dare,
And grasp the offer’d bribe.
But pour, O pour, while thus I tread
The path by thee prepar’d,
Thy beams of mercy on my head,
And round me plant a guard.
Thou, Lord, my steps has fix’d aright,
And pleas’d shalt hear my tongue,
With Israel’s thankful sons unite
To form the festal song.
James Merrick (1720-1769)
[Return to top of page]