1.

O How blest the Man, whose ear
Impious counsel shuns to hear,
Who nor loves to tread the way
Where the Sons of Folly stray,
Nor their frantic mirth to share,
Seated in Derision's chair;
But, to Virtue's path confin'd,
Spurns the men of sinful mind,
And, possess'd with sacred awe,
Meditates, great God, thy Law;
This by day his fix'd employ,
This by night his constant joy.

2.

Like the Tree that, taught to grow
Where the streams irriguous flow,
Oft as the revolving Sun
Through the destin'd Months has run,
Regular, its season knows,
Bending low its loaded boughs,
He his verdant branch shall spread,
Nor his sick'ning leaves shall shed;
He, whate'er his thoughts devise,
Joyful to the work applies,
Sure to find the wish'd success
Crown his hope, his labour bless.

3.

See, ah! see a diff'rent fate
God's obdurate foes await;
See them, to his wrath confign'd,
Fly like chaff before the wind.
When thy Judge, O Earth, shall come,
And to Each assign their doom,
Say, shall then the impious Band
With the Just assembled stand?
These th' Almighty, These alone,
Objects of his Love shall own,
While his vengeance who defy
Whelm'd in endless ruin lie.