The Wicked With His Works Unjust
The wicked, by his works unjust
doth thus persuade my heart,
That in the Lord he hath no trust,
his fear is set apart.
Yet doth he joy in his estate
to walk as he began,
So long till he deserves the hate
of God as well as man.
His words are wicked, vile and naught,
his tongue no truth doth tell;
Yet at no hand will he be taught
which way he may do well.
When he should sleep, then doth he muse
his mischiefs to fulfill:
No wicked way doth he refuse,
nor any thing that’s ill.
But, Lord, thy goodness doth ascend
above the heav’ns most high,
So doth thy truth itself extend
unto the cloudy sky.
Much more than hills both high and steep
thy justice is exprest;
Thy judgments like the seas most deep:
thou sav’st both man and beast.
Thy mercy is above all things,
O God, it doth excel;
In trust whereof, as in thy wings,
the sons of men shall dwell.
Within thy house they shall be fed
with plenty at their will,
Of all delights they shall be sped,
and take thereof their fill:
Because the well of life most pure
doth ever flow from thee,
And in thy light we are full sure
eternal light to see.
From such as thee desire to know
let not thy grace depart,
Thy righteousness declare and show
to men of upright heart.
Let not the proud on me prevail,
O Lord, of thy good grace;
Nor let the wicked me assail
to throw me out of place.
But they in their device shall fall,
that wicked works maintain;
They shall be certainly cast down,
and never rise again.