God Loveth the Righteous

God lov­eth the right­eous

His good­ness is sure.

He nev­er for­sak­eth

The good and the pure.

Yet once my faith fal­tered

I en­vied the proud

In doubt and dis­qui­et

My spirit was bowed.

The wick­ed are pros­per­ous

And firm in their strength

No pangs do they suf­fer

Though death come at length.

They are not in trou­ble

As other men are

The plagues of their fel­lows

They view from afar.

In gar­ments of boast­ing

And vio­lence decked

With wealth more ab­un­dant

Than heart could ex­pect

They scoff

and the help­less

They proud­ly op­press.

The heav­ens and the earth

They as­sume to pos­sess.

Despising God’s peo­ple

They cause them to drain

The cup of op­press­ion

Injustice and pain.

They quest­ion God’s know­ledge

And bold­ly d­efy

The might and the jus­tice

Of God the Most High.

The wick­ed

grown weal­thy

Have com­fort and peace

While I

dai­ly chas­tened

See trou­bles in­crease

And

wrong­ing God’s child­ren

I cried in my pain

That clean hands are worth­less

And pure hearts are vain.

I went to God’s te­mple:

My doubts were dis­pelled.

The end of life’s jour­ney

I clear­ly b­eheld.

I saw in what per­il

Ungodly men stand

With sud­den de­struct­ion

And ru­in at hand.

As when one wak­ing

Forgetteth his dream

So God will des­pise them

Though great they may seem.

My en­vy was sense­less;

My grief was for naught.

Because I was faith­less

And fool­ish my thought.