My God, till I received thy stroke,
How like a beast was I!
So unaccustom’d to the yoke,
So backward to comply.
With grief my just reproach I bear,
Shame fills me at the thought;
How frequent my rebellions were!
What wickedness I wrought!
Thy merciful restraint I scorn’d,
And left the pleasant road;
Yet turn me, and I shall be turn’d,
Thou art the Lord my God.
“Is Ephraim banish’d from my thoughts,
Or vile in my esteem?
No,” saith the Lord, “with all his faults,
I still remember him.
“Is he a dear and pleasant child?
Yes, dear and pleasant still;
Though sin his foolish heart beguiled,
And he withstood my will.
“My sharp rebuke has laid him low,
He seeks my face again;
My pity kindles at his woe,
He shall not seek in vain.”