Thou hast no lightnings, O thou Just! br Or I their force should know; br And, if thou strike me into dust, br My soul approves the blow. br br The heart, that values less its ease br Than it adores thy ways, br In thine avenging anger sees br A subject of its praise. br br Pleased I could lie, concealed and lost, br In shades of central night; br Not to avoid thy wrath, thou know'st, br But lest I grieve thy sight. br br Smite me, O thou, whom I provoke! br And I will love thee still: br The well deserved and righteous stroke br Shall please me, though it kill. br br Am I not worthy to sustain br The worst thou canst devise; br And dare I seek thy throne again, br And meet thy sacred eyes? br br Far from afflicting, thou art kind; br And, in my saddest hours, br An unction of thy grace I find, br Pervading all my powers. br br Alas! thou sparest me yet again; br And, when thy wrath should move, br Too gentle to endure my pain, br Thou soothest me with thy love. br br I have no punishment to fear; br But, ah! that smile from thee br Imparts a pang far more severe br Than woe itself would be.