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How precious to me Your thoughts, How vast is the sum of them; You see enemy onslaughts, Knowing judgment will condemn. If You would count them how many, They are more than grains of sand; But You will not let any, In pilfering of the land. I will still remain with You, Since you would slay the wicked; For You are faithful and true, As evil is defeated. Men of blood depart from me, They speak malicious intent; Enemies too blind to see, For confessing to repent. For they take Your name in vain, I do hate those who hate You; As I grieve because of pain, Loathing of what they pursue. A pure hate in hating them, I count them being my foe; On that day You will condemn, Because my thoughts that You know. Search me O God, know my heart, Know my thoughts that are on You; In my mind not to depart, Always thoughts that I construe. See if any grievous way, Conceive as being evil; Lead me so I do not stray, As to avoid the devil. Copyright © 2021 Richard Newton Sherrer Vote for this poem
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