1 My God, till I received thy stroke,
How like a beast was I!
So unaccustom'd to the yoke,
So backward to comply.
2 With grief my just reproach I bear,
Shame fills me at the thought;
How frequent my rebellions were!
What wickedness I wrought!
3 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.
4 Is Ephraim banish'd from my thoughts,
Or vile in my esteem?
No, saith the Lord, with all his faults
I still remember him.
5 Is he a dear and pleasant child?
Yes, dear and pleasant still;
Though sin his foolish heart beguiled.
And he withstood my will.
6 My sharp rebuke has laid him low,
He seeks my face again;
My pity kindles at his woe,
He shall not seek in vain.