PSALM LXII.

George Burgess

How long shall rush your storming pow'rs
Against one bosom just?
Soon, like a shatter'd bulwark's tow'rs,
Your might shall strew the dust.

They lie, to shake his seat above,
The seat they cannot climb:
Their lips o'erflow with words of love,
Their hearts with thoughts of crime.

But look, my soul, for God's defence.
My strength and rocky wall;
For all my hope shall come from thence,
And I shall never fall.

In God, my God, who ne'er departs,
My hope, my fame, abide:
Oh, trust him all with outpour'd hearts,
If good or ill betide.

God is our strength; but, strong or frail,
The sons of men are vain;
And, weigh'd when judgment holds the scale,
As light as air remain.

Trust not the robber's sordid piles,
Nor boast the hoarded ore:
When round thy home rich plenty smiles,
Yet love not wealth the more.

For once and twice our God hath spoke,
That his is sov'reign sway:
And mercy, Lord, shall guide thy stroke,
But thou shalt all repay.