William Cowper (1731–1800)

My God! till I receiv’d 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;

Tho’ sin his foolish heart beguil’d,

        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.