PSALM XXXVII.

George Burgess

Commit to God thy cheerful way,
And thou shalt see thy purpose done;
Thy truth shall lighten as the day,
Thy judgment as the noontide sun:
Direct thy silent trust on high,
And wait the arm that rules the sky;
And envy ne'er the prosp'rous road
That guilty pride and craft have show'd.

Escape from passion's jealous flame,
Nor lift for ill thy wrathful hand;
The proud shall perish in their shame,
The saints shall hold their promis'd land:
For yet a little, fleeting while,
And thou may'st vainly seek the vile;
While plenteous peace shall smile around
The meek believer's guarded ground.

Gnash they their teeth, the impious host,
Against the just their counsels raise;
God laughs to scorn their fruitless boast,
And sees the dawn of vengeance blaze:
High be their sword, and bent their bow,
To bring the righteous suff'rer low;
Their sword shall pierce their own false heart,
Their shiver'd bow let fall its dart.

In righteous gains, though poor and small,
Is wealth beyond th' oppressor's gold;
Th' oppressor's arm shall pow'rless fall,
And God the righteous step uphold:
Knows he and loves the good man's ways,
And guards him on till endless days:
O'er such no cloud shall peril bring,
And famine sees them feast and sing.

Like smoke that o'er the altar fumes,
Where bleeds the lamb, and bleeding burns,
So time the hoarding wretch consumes,
While love's free gift in wealth returns:
Most strong to curse, most kind to bless,
God leads the just, and gives success;
And though they fall, they yet shall stand,
And smiling trust th' Almighty hand.

Ne'er, while from youth to age I trod,
For all that path was mine to tread,
Saw I the righteous left of God,
Or his lorn offspring beg for bread:
O'er bounteous heads all favour glows;
Down to their seed the blessing flows;
And if from ill thy footstep cease,
Forever shall thy house be peace.

Peace dwells in ev'ry righteous home;
For God's strong shield his saints defends:
His light is there when troubles foam;
On, e'en to death its gleam descends:
Quell'd by his storms, th' ungodly line,
Like blasted branches, with'ring pine,
While, on the land by promise bless'd,
The upright feet have glorious rest.

Rich words distils the good man's voice;
There truth and honey'd wisdom glide:
The Lord's pure law is all his choice,
His patient footsteps never slide:
Silent, the wicked watch his way,
And fain would rise to seize and slay;
God saves him from their ambush'd pow'r,
And saves in judgment's stormier hour.

Trust thou the Lord and his command;
So, when the bold transgressor dies,
Thou, lifted in thine own fair land,
Shalt see, as saw my wondering eyes:
Upward I saw him spread his fruit,
And fix below his stately root;
I pass'd, and all the scene was bare;
I looked, nor one poor leaf was there.

Watch thou the path, where walks the just;
Peace hovers o'er his holy end;
While, mid the mass of common dust,
The haughty seed their ruins blend:
Yet not his arm deliverance brings;
His hope to God's strong succour clings;
And as he hopes, so God shall give,
And, safe from foes, his soul shall live.