Fret not thy­self, nor en­vi­ous be,
When wick­ed work­ers thou shalt see,
Who pros­per in their way;
For like the grass they per­ish soon,
And, like the herb cut down at noon,
They wi­ther in a day.

Trust in the Lord and still do well,
Within the land se­cure­ly dwell,
Feed on His faith­ful­ness;
Delight thee also in the Lord,
And to thy heart He will ac­cord
The good it would pos­sess.

Yea, to the Lord thy way is known;
Confide in Him who on the throne
Abides in pow­er di­vine;
Thy right­eous­ness He shall dis­play;
Resplendent as the light of day,
It shall un­cloud­ed shine.

Rest in the Lord and be thou still,
With pa­tience wait His ho­ly will,
Enduring to the end.
Fret not though sin­ners’ gains in­crease;
Forsake thy wrath, from an­ger cease;
It will to ev­il tend.

The ev­il-do­er soon shall die,
But those that on the Lord re­ly
Shall all the land ob­tain.
A lit­tle while and thou shalt see
That wick­ed man cut off shall be,
They shall be sought in vain.

Yea, thou shalt soon con­sid­er well
The place where they were wont to dwell,
And it shall not be found;
But saints shall all the land pos­sess,
And find de­light and hap­pi­ness
Where fruits of peace abound.

The vile may plot against the just
Who in the Lord Je­ho­vah trust,
But God will scorn them all;
The Lord their com­ing day shall see,
When brok­en all their pow­er shall be,
And ru­in on them fall.