Why Dost Thou Tyrant Boast Abroad

Why dost thou, tyrant, boast abroad
thy wicked works to praise?
Dost thou not know there is a God,
whose mercies last always?

Why doth thy mind yet still devise
such wicked wiles to harp?
Thy tongue untrue in forging lies
is like a razor sharp.

On mischief why sett’st thou thy mind,
and wilt not walk upright?
Thou lovest more false tales to find,
than bring the truth to light.

Thou dost delight in fraud and guile,
In mischief, blood and wrong;
Thy lips have learnt the flatt’ring style,
O false deceitful tongue!

Therefore the Lord shall thee confound,
and pluck thee from thy place,
Thy seed root out from off the ground,
and utterly deface.

The just, when they behold thy fall,
with fear will praise the Lord,
And in reproach of thee withal
cry but with one accord;

Behold the man that did refuse
the Lord for his defence,
But in his riches great did place
his trust and confidence.

But I, as olive fresh and green
shall spring and spread abroad,
Because my trust all times hath been
upon the living God.

For this therefore will I give praise
to thee with heart and voice,
I will advance thy Name always,
wherein thy saints rejoice.