That Man Is Blest Who Stands in Awe

That man is blest who stands in awe

Of God

and loves His sac­red law:

His seed on earth shall be re­nowned;

His house the seat of wealth shall be

An un­ex­haust­ed trea­su­ry

And with suc­cess­ive hon­ors crowned.

His li­ber­al fa­vors he ex­tends

To some he gives

to oth­ers lends;

A ge­ne­rous pi­ty fills his mind:

Yet what his char­ity im­pairs

He saves by pru­dence in af­fairs

And thus he’s just to all man­kind.

His hands

while they his alms be­stowed

His glo­ry’s fu­ture har­vest sowed;

The sweet re­mem­brance of the just

Like a green root

re­vives and bears

A train of bless­ings for his heirs

When dy­ing na­ture sleeps in dust.

Beset with threat­en­ing dan­gers round

Unmoved shall he main­tain his ground;

His con­science holds his cour­age up:

The soul that’s filled with vir­tue’s light

Shines bright­est in af­flict­ion’s night

And sees in dark­ness beams of hope.

Ill tid­ings nev­er can sur­prise

His heart that fixed on God re­lies

Though waves and tem­pests roar around:

Safe on the rock he sits

and sees

The ship­wreck of his en­emies

And all their hope and glo­ry drowned.

The wick­ed shall his tri­umph see

And gnash their teeth in ago­ny

To find their expec­ta­tions crossed;

They and their en­vy

pride

and spite

Sink down to ev­er­last­ing night

And all their names in dark­ness lost.