Happy the man who feareth God,
Whose feet His holy ways have trod;
Thine own good hand shall nourish thee,
And well and happy shalt thou be.

Thy wife shall, like a fruitful vine,
Fill all thy house with clusters fine;
Thy children all be fresh and sound,
Like olive-plants thy table round.

Lo! to the man these blessings cleave
Who in God’s holy fear doth live;
From him the ancient curse hath fled
By Ad­am’s race inherited.

Out of Mount Zion God shall send,
And crown with joy thy latter end;
That thou Je­ru­sa­lem mayst see,
In favor and prosperity.

He shall be with thee in thy ways,
And give thee health and length of days;
Yea, thou shalt children’s children see,
And peace on Israel shall be.