The hand of God hath smitten me. 

 I know 

 That my Redeemer liveth, and shall stand 

 At last upon the earth, and though in death 

 Worms shall destroy this body, in my flesh 

 Shall I see God." 

 This glorious burst of faith 

 Springing from depths of misery and pain 

 Awed them a moment, like the lightning's flash, 

 Cleaving the cloud. But gathering strength again, 

 They sought the conflict. 

 "Thou, who art so wise, 

 Hast thou not learn'd how baseless is the joy 

 And boasting of the hypocrite? His head 

 Up to the heavens in excellence and pride 

 May seem to mount, yet shall he swiftly fall 

 Leaving no trace. Though still he toils to keep 

 His sin a secret from his fellow-men, 

 Like a sweet, stolen morsel, hiding it 

 Under his tongue, yet shall the veil be rent. 

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