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The 37th Psalm.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The 37th Psalm.

Inscrib'd to an Injur'd Friend.
Fret not thy self when wicked Men prevail,
And bold Iniquity bears down the Scale.
They and their Glory quickly shall decay,
Swept by the Hand of Providence away,
As verdant Grass, cut from its vital Root,
That, with'ring, dies beneath the heedless Foot:
In Piety resolv'd, on Heav'n depend;
His Hand shall feed thee, and his Arm defend.

178

Delight in Him, who hath the Pow'r to bless,
And what thy Soul desires thou shalt possess.
In all thy Ways on Providence recline,
So shall he vindicate each just Design.
Thy Virtue in full Prospect shall be shown,
Clear as the Morn, bright as the Mid-day Sun.
In humble Silence ever-patient be,
Wait the Event of his divine Decree.
Tho' guilty Policy her Schemes fulfil,
Fret not thy self, nor Imitate the ill.
Sudden the Sons of Vice shall be destroy'd,
And desolate the Place they once enjoy'd.
But he that's humble, merciful and just,
And in his God reposes all his Trust,
Shall see his Days protracted, void of Cares,
And pass with Pleasure all his smiling Years.

179

The harden'd Wretch, that's grown from bad to worse,
May grind his Teeth, or vent the dreadful Curse;
Or the black Schemes of hidden Mischief lay,
Heav'n's fav'rite Children eager to betray.
Th' Almighty views him with a scornful Eye;
Knowing the Day of his Destruction nigh.
In vain he draws the Sword, and bends the Bow,
And levels at the Just the murd'ring Blow.
His own false Heart shall feel the fatal Wound,
And the snapt Bow lay shiver'd on the Ground.
The humble Pittance, by the Good enjoy'd,
With Labour gain'd, with Probity employ'd,
Is better far, and more to be desir'd,
Than wealthy Stores, by wicked Men acquir'd:
Whose Arms shall fail, whose Strength shall Weakness prove,
But the just Man no Pow'r on earth shall move.

178

His God is his Support, his Joy, his Rest,
And to Eternity he shall be blest.
When heavy Judgments sweep o'er guilty Lands,
Secure in conscious Innocence he stands:
When Fountains fail, and Earth denies her Grain,
When pinching Want and meagre Famine reign;
In his fair Fields shall fruitful Harvests grow,
And his fresh Springs with Chrystal Streams o'erflow.
But stubborn Sinners shall no Mercy find;
For as light Vapours fly before the Wind,
As offer'd Lambs on glowing Altars lay,
Whose burning Fat consumes and melts away,
So, shall they perish all, and disappear,
As Clouds of Smoke disperst in thinner Air.
All that is Just the wicked Man declines,
False are his Words, and fraudful his Designs.

181

With Ease he'll promise, and with Ease betray,
“Lend me, says he:” but never means to pay.
What diff'rent Virtues grace the pious Mind!
Here Mercy is with chearing Bounty join'd,
Here open-handed Charity is seen,
And soft Compassion with a gentle Mien;
Such is the Man, who long Heav'n's Favour shares,
And leaves the copious Blessing to his Heirs.
But he that travels on in wicked Ways,
Is most accurst, and short shall be his Days.
A good Man's Steps are all with Caution trod,
At once the Charge and Fav'rite of his God:
And if he slips (as sure the Best may err)
He's still supported by Almighty Care.

182

From blooming Youth to my declining Years,
I ne'er beheld the Righteous or his Heirs
Unfriended, wand'ring, piteously implore
The Dole of Charity from Door to Door.
His Pray'rs, his Pity, ev'ry gracious Deed
Entails a lasting Blessing on his Seed.
Observe what's right, let Sin be most abhorr'd,
Immortal Life shall be the great Reward.
For Truth and Virtue are by Heav'n approv'd,
And the just Man shall be by Heav'n belov'd.
Protected by his God, he knows no Fear,
For ever safe beneath his Guardian's Care.
That Friend of Saints will lengthen out their Days,
When sudden Death cuts off the wicked Race.
But he, whose Life is regular and pure,
Shall make his Name to latest Times endure.

183

Nor thro' unnumber'd Ages shall decline,
The patrimonial Honours of his Line.
What Wisdom dictates, he with Pleasure tells,
While his glad Tongue on sweet Instruction dwells.
Within his Heart his Maker's Law presides,
And firm he treads whom true Religion guides.
In vain he's watch'd by his insidious Foe,
That seeks to slay him with a secret Blow.
For Heav'n, still careful of its Servant's Good,
Shall free him from the Hand distain'd with Blood.
Or, if malicious Sycophants combine,
If wicked Men in wicked Counsels join.
And thro' black Perjury and canker'd Spight,
Perverted Judgment seize his legal Right;
Intrepid he sustains the pressive Ill,
Conscious his God will hold him guiltless still.

184

With patient Hope the Path of God pursue,
Thine Eyes a strange Vicissitude shall view.
Thy Right restor'd with larger Tracts of Land,
And Pow'r, unknown before, shall bless thy Hand.
Thy late insulting Foe to thee shall bend,
And thou shalt mark his miserable End.
I have my self, a potent Villain see,
Like the young Laurel, vig'rous, lovely, green,
With Pow'r invested, stretch from side to side,
Vain with Success, and swell'd with inward Pride,
Yet soon this mighty Man was shrunk to Earth;
'Twas scarce remembred that he e'er had Birth.
I sought the Place, where he so lately shone,
'Twas all a Waste, the faithless Master gone.

185

Behold the Man, whose Life's unblemish'd round,
Is with fair Truth, and bright Perfection crown'd:
With what Composure he resigns his Breath,
Serenely smiling in the Arms of Death!
But the transgressing Tribe shall soon decay,
Tho' Mercy for a while their Fate delay.
A certain Vengeance on their Race shall fall,
And one vast Ruin overwhelm them all.
To the just Man Prosperity is giv'n,
And his Redeemer is the Lord of Heav'n.
But if a Tryal of his Faith be meant,
And for that End severe Affliction's sent,
His Arm sustains him in the Day of Woe,
And gives him strength to bear the chast'ning Blow.
When angry Men, a vile perfidious Band,
Approach to wound him with unhallow'd Hand;

186

To Heav'n he looks, expecting safety thence,
And the Most High will be his sure Defence;
Will crush his Foes and their mad Pow'r restrain,
For none e'er trusted in the Lord in vain.