Why should I vex my soul, and fret
To see the wick­ed rise?
Or en­vy sin­ners wax­ing great
By vio­lence and lies?

As flow­ery grass cut down at noon,
Before the ev­en­ing fades,
So shall their glo­ries van­ish soon
In ev­er­last­ing shades.

Then let me make the Lord my trust,
And prac­tice all that’s good;
So shall I dwell among the just,
And He’ll pro­vide me food.

I to my God my ways com­mit,
And cheer­ful wait His will;
Thy hand, which guides my doubt­ful feet,
Shall my de­sires ful­fill.

Mine in­no­cence shalt Thou dis­play,
And make Thy judg­ments known,
Fair as the light of dawn­ing day,
And glo­ri­ous as the noon.

The meek at last the earth pos­sess,
And are the heirs of Heav’n;
True rich­es, with abun­dant peace,
To hum­ble souls are giv’n.

Rest in the Lord, and keep His way,
Nor let your an­ger rise,
Though Pro­vi­dence should long de­lay
To pun­ish haugh­ty vice.

Let sin­ners join to break your peace,
And plot, and rage, and foam;
The Lord de­rides them, for He sees
Their day of ven­geance come.

They have drawn out the threat­en­ing sword,
Have bent the mur­der­ous bow,
To slay the men that fear the Lord,
And bring the right­eous low.

My God shall break their bows, and burn
Their per­se­cut­ing darts,
Shall their own swords against them turn,
And pain sur­prise their hearts.