PSALM CXII.

Tate and Brady

3 His house, the seat of wealth, shall be
An inexhausted treasury;
His justice, free from all decay,
Shall blessings to his heirs convey.

4 The soul that's fill'd with virtue's light
Shines brightest in affliction's night:
To pity the distress'd inclin'd,
As well as just to all mankind.

5 His lib'ral favours he extends,
To some he gives, to others lends;
Yet what his charity impairs,
He saves by prudence in affairs.

6 Beset with threat'ning dangers round,
Unmov'd shall he maintain his ground;
The sweet remembrance of the just
Shall flourish when he sleeps in dust.

7 Ill tidings never can surprise
His heart, that fix'd on God relies:
8 On safety's rock he sits, and sees
The shipwreck of his enemies.

9 His hands, while they his alms bestow'd,
His glory's future harvest sow'd;
Whence he shall reap wealth, fame, renown,
A temp'ral and eternal crown.

10 The wicked shall his triumph see,
And gnash their teeth in agony:
While their unrighteous hopes decay,
And vanish with themselves away.