Why Boastst Thou Tyrant Thy High Crimes

Why boast’st thou, tyrant, thy high crimes aloud?
Our God is ever to the righteous good:
Thy guileful tongue (a falshood ev’ry word)
More fatal pierces, than the keenest sword;
Mischief thou lov’st, and goodness dost despise,
Truth hath thy hate; thy dear amusement lies;
A Slander, big with ruin, gives thee joy;
Therefore th’ avenging God shall thee destroy,
Shall root thee out, that thou be seen no more,
While man in vain thy dwelling shall explore.
This shall the righteous view with joyful fear,
Smile at thy punshment, and heav’n revere.
“Lo! this the man (they’ll cry) with impious pride
“Who brav’d his maker, and his pow’r defied;
“Who his frail riches made his strength, and strove
“By villain-arts to mate our Lord above!”
For me, I’ll, like an olive, flourish long;
I’ll in the mercies of my God be strong;
I in his house will dwell; and night and day,
The wonders of his mighty arm display;
His glorious works, his clemency, proclaim,
And hail for ever his tremendous name.