University of Virginia Library

PSALM 73. v. 22, 3, 6, 17–20. (L. M.) The Prosperity of Sinners cursed.

I

Lord, what a thoughtless wretch was I,
To mourn, and murmur, and repine
To see the wicked plac'd on high,
In pride and robes of honour shine!

II

But oh their end, their dreadful end!
Thy sanctuary taught me so:
On slippery rocks I see them stand,
And fiery billows roll below.

III

Now let them boast how tall they rise,
I'll never envy them again;
There they may stand with haughty eyes,
Till they plunge deep in endless pain.

IV

Their fancy'd joys, how fast they flee!
Just like a dream when man awakes;
Their songs of softest harmony
Are but a preface to their plagues.

V

Now I esteem their mirth and wine
Too dear to purchase with my blood;
Lord 'tis enough that thou art mine,
My life, my portion, and my God.