Thrice Blest The Man That Great Jehovah


Thrice blest the man, that great Jehovah fears,
Observes his law, and his dread will reveres!
In honour long his progeny shall live;
And ‘mong the nations great respect receive:
His life he spends in peace, in wealth, in pow’r,
His name will last, when he himself’s no more:
While sore distresses wicked men confound,
Our God will beam his light the just around;
For, ever gracious, ever good, he frees,
The pious soul from woe, and gives her ease.
The good man’s bountiful, and constant gives,
And injur’d innocence with joy relieves;
And, with discretion while his life he guides,
His wealth he with the indigent divides.
“No storms of fate his steady soul can move,”
His soul, that scorns the earth, and soars above:
Ne’er dark oblivion can involve his name,
Nor time itself obliterate his fame.
No dismal tidings can his heart surprize;
Firm is his heart, and on his God relies;
Firm as a rock, he dares his threat’ning foes,
For heav’n himself his sure support he knows.
The wealth that he with chearfulness bestow’d,
The kind compassion to the poor he shew’d,
His merit and his glory high will raise,
And propagate his name to after-days.
This views the wicked with indignant eye;
Rank spite and envy all his peace destroy;
He chases, he frets, he pines, the live-long day,
And with unbated malice wastes away.