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Memoirs of William Miller - Sylvester Bliss

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Behold the envious! how he taunting says:<br />

‘Where are your Sabbaths and your solemn<br />

days?’<br />

The nations that have known and heard her<br />

fame<br />

Despise her now and publish all her shame.<br />

Her downcast look, her end, her bitter sigh,<br />

Are not regarded. No Deliverer’s nigh.<br />

Behold, O Lord, how her afflictions grow!<br />

Her enemies have magnified them too.<br />

There walk the plunderer’s and the murderer’s<br />

band,<br />

No place so sacred can their rage command.<br />

Her people sigh for bread; they seek in vain<br />

Their pleasant things for meat. They cry again:<br />

‘Look down, O Lord! consider all my ways;<br />

How vile am I, how sinful all my days!<br />

Ah! what is that to you who pass me by?<br />

Does any sorrow with my sorrow vie?<br />

The Lord in judgment hath afflicted me;<br />

From his fierce anger whither shall I flee?<br />

In every path my feet have found a snare.<br />

If I return, it’s desolation there.<br />

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