46 BAXTER' S .POEi\lS, ln their applause and best esteem, There's no coptentment to be had. I stand not to the bar of man ; It's thy displeasure makes me sad: l\ly thoughts and actions thou wilt scan: If thou approve me, I am glad. l\'1ust I bef01;e the ruling power Be call'd with shame to plead my cause,. And judged .as an evil-doer, And as a breaker of their laws? So was the Lord of life accused, Slandcr'd and scorn'd with cruel spite And as a malefactor used, And one that claimed Cresar's right. False witness cloudeth innocence: Truth seemeth conquer'd by a lie: Patience forbears a just defence; And life itself is judged to die. Methinks I see thee clothed with scorn; And spit upon, and buffeted, And crowned with the piercing thorn, Away to execution led. It most amazeth me to think Thou -bearest the repute of sin ! The bitter cup which thou didst drink, Had nothing bitterer therein. The sun did well to hide his face, ·when sun did righteousness eclipse: And the most just is with disgrace A sinner judged by sinners' lips. Thy steps, Lord, in this dirt I see; And lest my soul from God should stray,
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