Why Dost Thou Boast O Mighty Man


Why dost thou boast, O mighty man,
of mischief and of ill?
The goodness of Almighty God
endureth ever still.

Thy tongue mischievous calumnies
deviseth subtilely,
Like to a razor sharp to cut,
working deceitfully.

Ill more than good, and more than truth
thou lovest to speak wrong:
Thou lovest all-devouring words,
O thou deceitful tongue.

So God shall thee destroy for aye,
remove thee, pluck thee out
Quite from thy house, out of the land
of life he shall thee root.

The righteous shall it see, and fear,
and laugh at him they shall:
Lo, this the man is that did not
make God his strength at all:

But he in his abundant wealth
his confidence did place;
And he took strength unto himself
from his own wickedness.

But I am in the house of God
like to an olive green:
My confidence for ever hath
upon God’s mercy been.

And I for ever will thee praise,
because thou hast done this:
I on thy name will wait; for good
before thy saints it is.