Thrice hap­py man who fears the Lord,
Loves His com­mands, and trusts His Word;
Honor and peace his days at­tend,
And bless­ings to his seed des­cend.

Compassion dwells up­on His mind,
To works of mer­cy still inc­lined;
He lends the poor some pre­sent aid,
Or gives them, not to be re­paid.

When times grow dark, and tid­ings spread
That fill his neigh­bors round with dread,
His heart is armed against the fear,
For God with all His pow­er is there.

His soul, well fixed up­on the Lord,
Draws heav’nly cour­age from His Word;
Amidst the dark­ness light shall rise,
To cheer his heart and bless his eyes.

He hath dis­persed his alms abroad;
His works are still be­fore His God;
His name on earth shall long re­main,
While en­vi­ous sin­ners fret in vain.