Psalm XXXVII. Noli æmulari in malignantib. &c.
I
Fret not thy self to see the prosperous state
Of him, who dearly buyes it with his sin;
Nor thy content for his abundance hate;
Thou know'st not how hee's lasht and torn within;
The Worm, which at the root do's ly;
And though the Flower look ne're so fair,
Though hand, or Scythe its life should spare,
By this intestine Enemy,
Which first assails the heart through all its guards, 'twill dy.
II
Ne're envy him, but all thy Confidence
There only place, where it secur'd may be;
On God, who blessings do's around dispense,
Yet what He gives, expects again from Thee;
Like His, Thy goodness must extend,
For thus Thou shalt the Land possess,
Thy Land enjoy the fruits of Peace,
On its ne're-failing stock shalt spend,
Till there's no further need, and thou to Heav'n ascend.
III
Let the Almighty be thy love, and care,
Thy Counsellor, to whom thou may'st commit
All thy distrusts, thy troubles, griefs, and fear,
And judge that always best, which He thinks fit!
Then to thy prayers shall he incline,
Grant thy desires, and bring about
Affairs, whose end thou most didst doubt,
Make thee to His thy will resign,
That having done His Pleasure, thou may'st say 'tis thine.
IV
Then shall thy Justice like the day appear,
First breaking through the dungeon of the night,
Backward it looks, and sees behind all clear,
And bids the Sun close follow with his light;
Thy Righteousness shall be that Sun,
Which all the Mines of night displayes,
And all its treasons open layes,
Clear as his own fair beams at Noon,
When he has reacht Heav'ns top, and half his course has run.
V
What though thy forward prayers his help outgo,
And that the time, thou hadst prefixt, is past;
Wait still, for God the fittest time do's know,
And what's deferr'd a while, shall come at last!
Thy murmuring do's but feed thy pain,
For envy, rage, and guilt makes way,
And vice, which in no bounds will stay;
Indulge thy self but to complain,
Thy hand e're long, as much as mouth, will need a rein.
VI
Why should'st thou envy him, whose great estate
Prepares him only for the greater blow;
Which shall be swift, and certain as his fate,
And his vast riches to another go?
They're gone already, and behind
There's nothing left of all he did,
The glories of his house ly hid,
And with his fame are turn'd to wind,
Whose very ruins, though thou seek'st, no where canst find.
VII
But those, who patiently on God depend,
He with a numerous family will bless;
No tempest can their setled calm offend,
But they in peace their Souls, and Land possess:
No matter, though incens'd with rage,
The wicked curse them in his pride,
God do's no less his threats deride,
Sees him in his declining age,
And the Scene finisht, with him will remove the stage.
VIII
Against the Righteous, with drawn Sword he stands,
Has bent his bow, and let the arrow fly;
Would in his blood embrew his cruel hands,
And his least threatning is, that he shall dy:
But God, who do's the Poor sustain,
By his own Sword shall make him fall;
Against him his own aids shall call,
Which he to fly shall seek in vain,
When in his heart the arrows, which he shot, remain.
IX
Better's that little, which the Righteous have
Than all the stores whereof the Wicked boast,
God shall disperse what he rak'd up to save,
And there most scatter, where he gath'red most:
For He the Just mans way do's know,
What he has suff'red, what has done,
Lending His arm to lean upon,
Will show him, where he ought to go,
And after a long life Heav'n in reward bestow.
X
In War he shall be kept, in Famine fed,
In the worst times, nor blush, nor be afraid;
God, who's his shield, Himself will find him bread,
And only make his Enemies dismay'd:
They like the fat of lambs shall waste,
And only leave a smoke behind,
To be the triumph of the wind;
Their goods ill gotten shall not last,
But like their suddain growth, their end shall come as fast.
XI
The wicked borrows, but ne're means to pay,
The Righteous gives, and counts for so much more:
For God returns it him another way,
(That God, whose Word makes either rich or poor)
Directs his passage through the land,
Upholds him as he goes along,
By this assistance makes him strong;
And when he stumbles gives His hand,
Both leads him when he slips, and makes him firmer stand.
XII
Through all my life, which has so wondrous been,
From its first journey Youth to this last stage,
Where every day I have new wonders seen,
And been my self the greatest of the age,
The Liberal man I ne're knew need,
Himself quite left, or Children crave
An alms, but what he lent, they have,
For thus he did but cast that seed,
On whose increase they live, and plentifully feed.
XIII
Fly Vice, and that thou may'st a blessing leave
For Childrens Children, to Gods ways form Thine!
Return that justice, which thou didst receive,
So shall thy help be from the hand Divine!
That on thee shall pour mercies down,
Below shall give thee many dayes,
And happy all, then after raise
Thy head to an immortal Crown,
Whil'st the whole race of wicked shall to Hell be thrown.
XIV
As his heart thinks, the Just man ever speaks,
From Gods Law there, like streams right judgement flows;
The Statutes he commands, his hand ne're breaks,
And where that points, his foot unerring goes:
In vain the Wicked snares do's lay,
And spreads in vain for him his nets,
To take his life the way besets,
For God shall in the Judgement day,
When he clears him, the privy murderer justly slay.
XV
Wait on the Lord, and see what end Hee'll make;
Keep close to His, and He shall guard thy way:
Thy duty's all the care He'd have thee take,
And only to possess the Land, obey.
And when thy Enemies turn to dust,
And like that vanish from thy sight,
Thou shalt behold it with delight:
On His own terms th' Almighty trust,
For He, who promis'd thee, and threatned them, is just.
XVI
How could that be else, which mine eyes have seen?
The Wicked in great power, exceeding high,
Like some proud Cedar stand, and ever green,
With his leaf age, Heav'n with his head defie;
But yet he pass'd, and yet he fell,
An hand immortall gave the wound;
No more could root, or branch be found,
I look'd, and ask'd, but none could tell,
Where was the place it grew, or whence it sunk to hell.
XVII
Unlike the Perfect man, whom God defends,
For if you mark him, and observe th' Upright,
Mercy his life, his death-bed peace attends,
Without all storm, or Conscience to affright:
While that o'rethrow the wicked have
Is a light taste of what shall be
Their portion, to Eternity;
From which their riches less can save
Their guilty souls, than their vile bodies from the grave.
XVIII
In God the Poor do's all his trust repose,
To Him in trouble flyes, in straits complains;
Who in return confounds His bloody foes,
And leads them captive in eternal Chains,
For none e're yet his eyes did raise
To Heav'n for help, and sought it thence,
With certain hope, and confidence,
But Heav'n did crown his head with bayes,
And turn'd his Prayers into triumphant Songs of Praise.
