Classic Poem

O THOU in mischief great,
Why boast'st thou in deceit?
God's greater mercy will
Protect His servants still.
Thy tongue with fraud abounds,
And like a razor wounds;
All evil dost affect,
All that is good neglect.
Lies are thy low delight,
To virtue opposite;
Thy words with treachery
The innocent destroy.
God shall repay thy hate,
Thy structures ruinate,
And make thee curse thy birth,
Then tear thee from the earth.
The just thy fall shall see,
Fear Him and laugh at thee:
Lo, he who God forsook,
Nor for his refuge took,
Self-strength'ning with excess
Of wealth and wickedness.
But I shall planted be,
Like a green olive-tree,
In God's own House; and will
Trust in His mercies still.
For this, I evermore
Shall Thy great Name adore,
Thy promises expect,
The joy of Thine elect.