Tho’ Wicked Men Grow Rich or Great

Tho’ wick­ed men grow rich or great

Yet let not their suc­cess­ful state

Thy an­ger

or thy en­vy

raise;

For they

cut down

like ten­der grass

Or like young flow­ers

away shall pass

Whose bloom­ing beau­ty soon de­cays.

Depend on God

and Him ob­ey;

So thou with­in the land shalt stay

Secure from dan­ger

and from want;

Make His com­mands thy chief de­light;

And He

thy duty to re­quite

Shall all thy ear­nest wish­es grant.

In all thy ways trust thou the Lord

And He will need­ful help af­ford

To per­fect ev­ery just de­sign;

He’ll make

like light

se­rene and clear

Thy cloud­ed in­no­cence ap­pear

And as a mid-day sun to shine.

With qui­et mind on God de­pend

And pa­tient­ly for Him at­tend;

Nor let thy an­ger fond­ly rise

Tho’ wick­ed men with wealth ab­ound

And with suc­cess the plots are crowned

Which they ma­li­cious­ly de­vise.

From an­ger cease

and wrath for­sake;

Let no un­gov­erned pass­ion make

Thy wa­ver­ing heart es­pouse their crime:

For God shall sin­ful men de­stroy;

Whilst on­ly they the land en­joy

Who trust on Him

and wait His time.

How soon shall wick­ed men de­cay!

Their place shall van­ish quite away

Nor by the strict­est search be found;

Whilst hum­ble souls pos­sess the earth

Rejoicing still with god­ly mirth

With peace and plen­ty al­ways crowned.

While sin­ful crowds

with false de­sign

Against the right­eous few com­bine

And gnash their teeth

and threat­en­ing stand;

God shall their emp­ty plots de­ride

And laugh at their de­feat­ed pride:

He sees their ru­in near at hand.

They draw the sword

and bend the bow

The poor and needy to o’er­throw

And men of up­right lives to slay:

But their strong bows shall soon be broke

Their sharp­ened wea­pon’s mor­tal stroke

Thro’ their own hearts shall force its way.

A lit­tle

with God’s fa­vor blest

That’s by one right­eous men pos­sessed

The wealth of ma­ny bad ex­cels:

For God sup­ports the just man’s cause;

But

as for those that break His laws

Their un­suc­cess­ful pow­er He quells.

His con­stant care the up­right guides

And ov­er all their life pre­sides;

Their por­tion shall for ev­er last:

They

when dis­tress o’er­whelms the earth

Shall be un­moved

and e’en in dearth

The hap­py fruits of plen­ty taste.

Not so the wick­ed men

and those

Who proud­ly dare God’s will op­pose:

Destruction is their hap­less share:

Like fat of lambs

their hopes

and they

Shall in an in­stant melt away

And van­ish in­to smoke and air.

While sin­ners

brought to sad de­cay

Still bor­row on

and nev­er pay

The just have will and pow­er to give;

For such as God vouch­safes to bless

Shall peace­ably the earth pos­sess;

And those He curs­es

shall not live.

The good man’s way is God’s de­light;

He or­ders all the steps aright

Of him that moves by His com­mand;

Though he some­times may be dis­tressed;

Yet shall he ne’er be quite op­pressed;

For God up­holds him with His hand.

From my first youth

till age pre­vailed

I nev­er saw the right­eous failed

Or want o’er­take his nu­mer­ous race

Because com­pass­ion filled his heart

And he did cheer­fully im­part

God made his off­spring’s wealth in­crease.

With cau­tion shun each wick­ed deed

In vir­tue’s ways with zeal pro­ceed

And so pro­long your hap­py days:

For God

who judg­ment loves

does still

Preserve His saints se­cure from ill

While soon the wick­ed race de­cays.

The up­right shall pos­sess the land:

His por­tion shall for ag­es stand;

His mouth with wis­dom is sup­plied;

His tongue by rules of judg­ment moves;

His heart the law of God ap­proves;

Therefore his foot­steps nev­er slide.

In wait the watch­ful sin­ner lies

In vain the right­eous to sur­prise;

In vain

his ru­in does de­cree:

God will not him defense­less leave

To His re­venge ex­posed

but save

And

when he’s sen­tenced

set him free.

Wait still on God; keep His com­mands;

And thou

ex­alt­ed in the land

Thy blest pos­sess­ion ne’er shalt quit:

The wick­ed soon de­stroyed shall be

And at his dis­mal tra­ge­dy

Thou shalt a safe spec­ta­tor sit.

The wick­ed I in pow­er have seen

And

like a bay-tree

fresh and green

That spreads its plea­sant branch­es round;

But he was gone as swift as thought;

And tho’ in ev­ery place I sought

No sign or track of him I found.

Observe the per­fect man with care

And mark all such as up­right are;

Their rough­est days in peace shall end:

While on the lat­ter end of those

Who dare God’s sac­red will op­pose.

A com­mon ruin shall at­tend.

God to the just will aid af­ford;

Their on­ly safe­guard is the Lord;

Their strength

in time of need

is He:

Because on Him they still de­pend

The Lord will time­ly suc­cor send

And from the wick­ed set them free.