Harold Macdonald's Muse

Let thy judgement, O Lord, pour down like rain

on victim faces, oppressed, downtrodden

until with healing balm they are besodden

and drenched with peace and plenty, live again

For You are the Maker, in Your image, of us all;

depose therefore the swaggering, greedy, proud

who think themselves above the public crowd-

cause their pride to go before their fall.

Although I have, to some, brought hurt and stress

and lived an often blemished life

resorting many times to fruitless strife

let me see Your glorious righteousness

I would seek to stand before Your throne

and give You honour. You alone.

Midi: Contakion