My God! till I received thy stroke,

How like a beast was I!

So unaccustomed to the yoke,

So backward to comply.

With grief my just reproach I bear,

Shame fills me at the thought;

How frequent my rebellions were!

What wickedness I wrought!

Thy merciful restraint I scorned

And left the pleasant road;

Yet turn me, and I shall be turned,

Thou art the Lord my God.

Is Ephraim banished from my thoughts,

Or vile in my esteem?

No, saith the LORD, with all his faults,

I shall remember him.

Is he a dear and pleasant child?

Yes, dear and pleasant still;

Though sin his foolish heart beguiled,

And he withstood my will.

My sharp rebuke has laid him low,

He seeks my face again;

My pity kindles at his woe,

He shall not seek in vain.