The Poetry of Robert Burns | ||
PARAPHRASE OF THE FIRST PSALM
I
The man, in life wherever plac'd,Hath happiness in store,
Who walks not in the wicked's way
Nor learns their guilty lore;
II
Nor from the seat of scornful prideCasts forth his eyes abroad,
But with humility and awe
Still walks before his God!
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III
That man shall flourish like the trees,Which by the streamlets grow:
The fruitful top is spread on high,
And firm the root below.
IV
But he, whose blossom buds in guilt,Shall to the ground be cast,
And, like the rootless stubble, tost
Before the sweeping blast.
V
For why? that God the good adoreHath giv'n them peace and rest,
But hath decreed that wicked men
Shall ne'er be truly blest.
The Poetry of Robert Burns | ||