PSALM LXII.

Tate and Brady

3 How long will ye contrive my fall,
Which will but hasten on your own?
You'll totter like a bending wall,
Or fence of uncemented stone.

4. To make my envied honours less
They strive with lies, their chief delight;
For they, tho' with their mouths they bless,
In private curse with inward spite.

5, 6 But thou, my soul, on God rely;
On him alone thy trust repose;
My rock and health will strength supply
To bear the shock of all my foes.

7 God does his saving health dispense,
And flowing blessings daily send;
He is my fortress and defence,
On him my soul shall still depend.

8 In him, ye people, always trust,
Before his throne pour out your hearts;
For God, the merciful and just,
His timely aid to us imparts.

9 The vulgar fickle are and frail;
The great dissemble and betray;
And laid in truth's impartial scale,
The lightest things will both out weigh.

10 Then trust not in oppressive ways,
By spoil and rapine grow not vain;
Nor let your hearts, if wealth increase,
Be set too much upon your gain.

11 For God has oft his will express'd,
And I this truth have fully known;
To be of boundless pow'r possess'd
Belongs of right to God alone.

12 Though mercy is his darling grace,
In which he chiefly takes delight,
Yet will he all the human race
According to their works requite.