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471

PSALM I.

Happy the man who scorns to join
That impious race who truth deride,
Who wisely makes the law divine
His nightly study, daily guide.
Like some fair tree, ordain'd to shade
The margin of a plenteous stream,
Sublime he waves his leafy head,
His boughs with fruit maturely teem.
Compar'd with his, each sickly bloom
Of Vice and Folly swift decay,
The passing gale conveys their doom,
And whirls them, like the dust, away.
The just, who make their God their guide,
His presence only shall enjoy,
The impious, who his laws deride,
His wrath vindictive shall destroy.