Sonnet

O LORD, Thou know’st my inmost hope and thought,

Thou know’st whene’er before Thy judgment throne

I shed salt tears, and uttered many a moan.

’Twas not for vanities that I besought.

O turn on me Thy look with mercy fraught,

And see how envious malice makes me groan!

The pall upon my heart by error thrown,

Remove; illume me with Thy radiant thought.

At truth let not the wicked scorner mock,

O Thou, that breath’dst in me a spark divine.

The lying tongue’s deceit with silence blight,

Protect me from its venom, Thou, my Rock,

And show the spiteful sland’rer by this sign

That Thou dost shield me with Thy endless might.