University of Virginia Library

Let not the Sinner's wealth or might
The envy of thy soul excite:
Anon thine eye shall see him fade
Quick as the flow'r or vernal blade,
That now rejoicing lists the head,
Now with'ring on the earth is spread.
But Thou thy will to Heav'n's high Lord
(His Faith thy trust, thy rule his Word,)
Submit, and nourish'd by his hand
Inherit from his gift the Land.
In Him delight, on Him depend;
Him chuse thy Guide, thy Way, thy End;
So shall his Love thy wishes grant,
His Care anticipate thy want,
And bid thy acts in light serene
Fair as the rising morn be seen,
Thy Justice as the noon of day
Diffusive pour its cloudless ray.
With patient hope await his will,
Nor let the sight of prosp'rous ill
Impell thee with disquiet vain
His wise disposals to arraign,
Lest wrath and doubt thy conscience blind,
And urge to acts of guilt thy mind.
See, from their dwelling torn, th' unjust
To those who fix on God their trust
(So wills the Majesty divine,)
Their forfeit heritage resign.
Wait but awhile; then look around:
No more the impious race are found;
Nor the proud roof nor wide domain
The mem'ry of their Lord retain.
But see the meek and pious Band
(Advanc'd by God's almighty hand
The pow'r among them to divide,
To fierce Ambition's sword denied,)
Earth's bounds possess, and, Peace their care,
The fulness of its blessings share.
His wiles the Fool of Sin provides
To slay whom Wisdom's precept guides,
Now furious grinds his teeth, and now
Insulting aims the deathful blow:
But God his frantic rage derides,
And sees the Day, as on it glides,
Whose beams, with wrath uncommon red,
Shall stream in vengeance o'er his head.
On You, ye Poor, with dire intent,
The sword is drawn, the bow is bent;
But vain each wish, each effort vain,
To root from earth your chosen train:
The sword, with better aim impress'd,
Descends into its Owner's breast;
Reluctant to the Archer's will
Bursts the tough bow, and mocks his skill.
Exchange not Ye your scanty store
For heaps of guilt-polluted ore:
That God, ye Saints, whose Love ye seek,
The arm of lawless pow'r shall break,
And bid the Just protected stand
Beneath the shadow of his hand:
By Him your years determin'd flow;
The Lot, which his Decrees bestow,
From Sire to Son, till time shall end,
In sure succession shall descend:
When War's dire flames around you burn,
From You the darts their points shall turn;
Each blast that taints the red'ning sky
From Your exempted fields shall fly.
Who know not Thee, great God, to dread,
As Victims for the slaughter fed,
Consum'd by Heav'n's avenging fire
Shall perish and in smoke aspire.
While faithless These th' intrusted loan
With base ingratitude disown,
His plenteous alms the Just can give,
And pleas'd a Brother's wants relieve.
Earth's goods thy Blessing to the Pure
Shall grant, and what it grants insure;
While guilty souls the Curse divine
To full excision shall consign.
The Just, blest object of thy Love,
Thou, Lord, wilt lead, his path approve,
Thy faithful hands his steps sustain,
Nor falls he, but to rise again.
Once was I young, and now am old,
Yet ne'er the Righteous could behold
By God deserted, nor his seed
Requesting at my gate their bread:
His heart with gen'rous pity glows;
Inrich'd by what his hand bestows
He lives, and for his distant heirs
Prosperity and peace prepares.

From Ill recede; to Good incline
Thy thought; and endless life be thine.
Delighted whom his Laws delight
Th' Almighty views; nor Day nor Night
The soul that bows to his Decree
Abandon'd from his Love shall see.
Behold, ye Just, th' eternal Doom
The Sinner's short-liv'd race consume,
While happier Ye to Yours assign'd
A heritage perpetual find.
How blest whom Thou, great God, hast taught!
His lips, with sacred science fraught,
The lessons of thy truth impart;
And, grav'd within his inmost heart,
Thy Law, the ever faithful Guide,
Forbids his stedfast feet to slide.
Each art the murth'rous tribe essay,
And mark the guiltless for their prey;
But God his rescue has decreed;
Himself will rise his cause to plead,
Refute th' Accuser's perjur'd tongue,
And save him from the hand of wrong.
Wait on thy God; observe his ways:
His pow'r aloft thy head shall raise;
Exerted in thy right his hand
Shall vindicate to Thee the Land,
And bid, before thy sight, his foe
The terrors of his vengeance know.
The prosp'ring Sinner once I view'd;
Strong as the healthful Tree he stood,
That, shadowing wide its native foil,
Nor knows, nor asks, the planter's toil:
I went, I came, and look'd again;
I look'd, but sought his place in vain.
Behold the Just, and mark his end:
See Peace his eve of life attend,
While on the Sinner's latest hour
The storms of heaviest vengeance low'r.
To God the Just his safety owes,
Him owns his Strength amidst his woes,
Assur'd that He shall each defend
Whose constant hopes on Him depend,
And, while his foes their peace invade,
Reach, in their cause, his promis'd aid.