Psalm 73
v.22,3,6,17-20
L. M.
The prosperity of sinners cursed.
Lord, what a thoughtless wretch was I,
To mourn, and murmur, and repine,
To see the wicked placed on high,
In pride and robes of honor shine!
But O their end, their dreadful end!
Thy sanctuary taught me so;
On slipp'ry rocks I see them stand,
And fiery billows roll below.
Now let them boast how tall they rise,
I'll never envy them again;
There they may stand with haughty eyes,
Till they plunge deep in endless pain.
Their fancied joys, how fast they flee!
Just like a dream when man awakes;
Their songs of softest harmony
Are but a preface to their plagues.
Now I esteem their mirth and wine
Too dear to purchase with my blood;
Lord, 'tis enough that thou art mine,
My life, my portion, and my God.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Related quotes
Psalm LXXIII: Now I'm Convinced the Lord Is Kind
Now I 'm convinced the Lord is kind
To men of heart sincere;
Yet once my foolish thoughts repined,
And bordered on despair.
I grieved to see the wicked thrive,
And spoke with angry breath,
"How pleasant and profane they live !
How peaceful is their death !
"With well-fed flesh and haughty eyes,
They lay their fears to sleep;
Against the heav'ns their slanders rise,
While saints in silence weep.
"In vain I lift my hands to pray,
And cleanse my heart in vain;
For I am chastened all the day,
The night renews my pain."
Yet while my tongue indulged complaints,
I felt my heart reprove,
"Sure I shall thus offend thy saints,
And grieve the men I love."
But still I found my doubts too hard,
The conflict too severe,
Till I retired to search thy word,
And learn thy secrets there.
There, as in some prophetic glass,
I saw the sinner's feet
High mounted on a slipp'ry place,
Beside a fiery pit.
I heard the wretch profanely boast,
Till at thy frown he fell;
His honors in a dream were lost,
And he awakes in hell.
Lord, what an envious fool I was!
How like a thoughtless beast
Thus to suspect thy promised grace,
And think the wicked blessed.
Yet I was kept from full despair,
Upheld by power unknown;
That blessed hand that broke the snare
Shall guide me to thy throne.
God, my supporter and my hope,
My help for ever near,
Thine arm of mercy held me up,
When sinking in despair.
Thy counsels, Lord, shall guide my feet
Through this dark wilderness;
Thine hand conduct me near thy seat,
To dwell before thy face.
Were I in heav'n without my God,
'twould be no joy to me;
And whilst this earth is my abode,
I long for none but thee.
What if the springs of life were broke,
And flesh and heart should faint?
God is my soul's eternal rock,
The strength of ev'ry saint.
Behold, the sinners that remove
Far from thy presence die;
Not all the idol gods they love
Can save them when they cry.
But to draw near to thee, my God,
Shall be my sweet employ;
My tongue shall sound thy works abroad,
And tell the world my joy.
Lord, what a thoughtless wretch was I,
To mourn, and murmur, and repine,
To see the wicked placed on high,
In pride and robes of' honour shine!
But O their end, their dreadful end!
Thy sanctuary taught me so;
On slipp'ry rocks I see them stand,
And fiery billows roll below.
Now let them boast how tall they rise,
I'll never envy them again;
There they may stand with haughty eyes,
Till they plunge deep in endless pain.
Their fancied joys, how fast they flee!
Just like a dream when man awakes;
Their songs of softest harmony
Are but a preface to their plagues.
Now I esteem their mirth and wine
Too dear to purchase with my blood;
Lord, 'tis enough that thou art mine,
My life, my portion, and my God.
Sure there's a righteous God,
Nor is religion vain;
Though men of vice may boast aloud,
And men of grace complain.
I saw the wicked rise,
And felt my heart repine,
While haughty fools with scornful eyes
In robes of' honor shine.
Pampered with wanton ease,
Their flesh looks full and fair;
Their wealth rolls in like flowing seas,
And grows without their care.
Free from the plagues and pains
That pious souls endure;
Through all their life oppression reigns,
And racks the humble poor.
Their impious tongues blaspheme
The everlasting God;
Their malice blasts the good man's name,
And spreads their lies abroad.
But I with flowing tears
Indulged my doubts to rise;
"Is there a God that sees or hears
The things below the skies?"
The tumults of my thought
Held me in hard suspense,
Till to thy house my feet were brought,
To learn thy justice thence.
Thy word with light and power
Did my mistake amend;
I viewed the sinners' life before,
But here I learned their end.
On what a slippery steep
The thoughtless wretches go;
And O that dreadful fiery deep
That waits their fall below!
Lord, at thy feet I bow,
My thoughts no more repine;
I call my God my portion now,
And all my powers are thine.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 73 part 1
Afflicted saints happy, and prosperous sinners cursed.
Now I'm convinced the Lord is kind
To men of heart sincere;
Yet once my foolish thoughts repined,
And bordered on despair.
I grieved to see the wicked thrive,
And spoke with angry breath,
"How pleasant and profane they live!
How peaceful is their death!
"With well-fed flesh and haughty eyes,
They lay their fears to sleep;
Against the heav'ns their slanders rise,
While saints in silence weep.
"In vain I lift my hands to pray,
And cleanse my heart in vain;
For I am chastened all the day,
The night renews my pain."
Yet while my tongue indulged complaints,
I felt my heart reprove,-
"Sure I shall thus offend thy saints,
And grieve the men I love."
But still I found my doubts too hard,
The conflict too severe,
Till I retired to search thy word,
And learn thy secrets there.
There, as in some prophetic glass,
I saw the sinner's feet
High mounted on a slipp'ry place,
Beside a fiery pit.
I heard the wretch profanely boast,
Till at thy frown he fell;
His honors in a dream were lost,
And he awakes in hell.
Lord, what an envious fool I was!
How like a thoughtless beast!
Thus to suspect thy promised grace,
And think the wicked blest.
Yet I was kept from full despair,
Upheld by power unknown;
That blessed hand that broke the snare
Shall guide me to thy throne.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 17
v.13-15
S. M.
Portion of saints and sinners.
Arise, my gracious God,
And make the wicked flee;
They are but thy chastising rod,
To drive thy saints to thee.
Behold, the sinner dies,
His haughty words are vain;
Here in this life his pleasure lies,
And all beyond is pain.
Then let his pride advance,
And boast of all his store;
The Lord is my inheritance,
My soul can wish no more.
I shall behold the face
Of my forgiving God;
And stand complete in righteousness,
Washed in my Savior's blood.
There's a new heav'n begun,
When I awake from death,
Dressed in the likeness of thy Son,
And draw immortal breath.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 90
Youth and judgment.
Eccl. 11:9.
Lo! the young tribes of Adam rise,
And through all nature rove
Fulfil the wishes of their eyes,
And taste the joys they love.
They give a loose to wild desires;
But let the sinners know
The strict account that God requires
Of all the works they do.
The Judge prepares his throne on high,
The frighted earth and seas
Avoid the fury of his eye,
And flee before his face.
How shall I bear that dreadful day,
And stand the fiery test?
I give all mortal joys away,
To be for ever blessed.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Belshazzar
Poor sinners! little do they think
With whom they have to do!
But stand securely on the brink
Of everlasting woe.
Belshazzar thus, profanely bold,
The Lord of hosts defied;
But vengeance soon his boasts controlled,
And humbled all his pride.
He saw a hand upon the wall
And trembled on his throne
Which wrote his sudden dreadful fall
In characters unknown.
Why should he tremble at the view
Of what he could not read?
Foreboding conscience quickly knew
His ruin was decreed.
See him o'erwhelmed with deep distress!
His eyes with anguish roll;
His looks, and loosened joints, express
The terrors of his soul.
His pomp and music, guests and wine,
No more delight afford;
O sinner, ere this case be thine,
Begin to seek the Lord.
The law like this hand-writing stands,
And speaks the wrath of God;
But Jesus answers its demands,
And cancels it with blood.
poem by John Newton
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Psalm 37 part 1
v.1-15
C. M.
The cure of envy, fretfulness, and unbelief.
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 ev'ning fades,
So shall their glories vanish soon
In everlasting shades.
Then let me make the Lord my trust,
And practise 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 fulfil.
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.
PAUSE.
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 threat'ning sword,
Have bent the murd'rous 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.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Lord Robert
Tall and young and light of tongue,
Gallantly riding by wood and lea,
He was ware of a maiden fair
And turned and whispered, 'Remember me.'
(Oh Lord Robert, Lord Robert, Lord Robert,
Oh Lord Robert, 'tis I, 'tis I;
Under their feet where the cross-roads meet
Dost thou think I can lie and lie,
Lord Robert, Lord Robert, Lord Robert?)
Day by day she walks that way
Never hoping by wood or lea
To be ware of the stranger gay
Who turned and whispered, 'Remember me.'
(Oh Lord Robert, Lord Robert, Lord Robert,
Oh Lord Robert, 'tis I, 'tis I;
Under their feet where the cross-roads meet
Dost thou think I can lie and lie,
Lord Robert, Lord Robert, Lord Robert?
Chance for chance he rides that way,
And again by wood or by lea
He was ware of the maiden fair,
And again he whispered, 'Remember me.'
(Oh Lord Robert, Lord Robert, Lord Robert,
Oh Lord Robert, 'tis I, 'tis I;
Under their feet where the cross-roads meet
Dost thou think I can lie and lie,
Lord Robert, Lord Robert, Lord Robert?)
Chance for chance that way rode he,
And again where he was ware,
Debonnair to that maiden fair
He turned and said, 'You remember me.'
(Oh Lord Robert, Lord Robert, Lord Robert,
Oh Lord Robert, 'tis I, 'tis I;
Under their feet where the cross-roads meet
Dost thou think I can lie and lie,
Lord Robert, Lord Robert, Lord Robert?)
Chance for chance on a summer-day,
Meeting her still by wood and lea,
He leaped gay from his gallant grey
And said, 'I see you remember me.'
(Oh Lord Robert, Lord Robert, Lord Robert,
Oh Lord Robert, 'tis I, 'tis I;
Under their feet where the cross-roads meet
Dost thou think I can lie and lie,
Lord Robert, Lord Robert, Lord Robert?)
Chance for chance when they hap'd to meet
He pressed on her lip, he breathed in her ear,
Dear dear words and kisses sweet,
Words and kisses too sweet, too dear.
(Oh Lord Robert, Lord Robert, Lord Robert,
Oh Lord Robert, 'tis I, 'tis I;
Under their feet where the cross-roads meet,
Dost thou think I can lie and lie,
Lord Robert, Lord Robert, Lord Robert?)
When the morn enchants the east,
When the south is dazed with noon,
When the eve weeps to the west,
When the night beguiles the moon,
The maid moon that sat so lowly,
Sat so lowly with bended head,
Sat so lowly and rose so slowly,
Rose so slowly and walked so lowly,
Ever, ever with bended head,
Till the black, black hour of the starless sky,
The black, black hour and the dark, dark bed,
And live maids weep as they turn in their sleep,
Weep in their sleep and know not why,
And the white owls shriek and the dead men croon.
Now all ye gentlemen, grand and gay,
When you meet a maid by wood or lea,
Sir Knight, I pray, ride on thy way,
Nor turn and whisper, 'Remember me.'
Lest you drink no wine so strong or fine
But out of the cup, like a shell of the sea,
Thou shalt learn how slaves from their wormy graves
Can do that bidding, 'Remember me.'
(Oh Lord Robert, Lord Robert, Lord Robert,
Oh Lord Robert, 'tis I, 'tis I;
Under their feet where the cross-roads meet
Dost thou think I can lie and lie,
Lord Robert, Lord Robert, Lord Robert?)
Lest never in hall when the knights stand tall
And the goblets flash and the ladies shine,
And thou risest up the king of them all,
To drink to wassail and woman and wine,
Risest up with thy jewelled cup,
But out of the cup, like the sea in a shell,
A voice thou hast known by hill and wood,
A voice, a voice thou hast known too well!
And the cold wine boils on the lip like blood,
And the blood streams cold to the heart like wine,
Cold and hot to the heart like wine.
(Oh Lord Robert, Lord Robert, Lord Robert,
Oh Lord Robert, 'tis I, 'tis I;
Under their feet where the cross-roads meet
Dost thou think I can lie and lie,
Lord Robert, Lord Robert, Lord Robert?)
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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The Joy Of The Lord Is Your Strength
Joy is a fruit that will not grow
In nature's barren foil;
All we can boast, till Christ we know,
Is vanity and toil.
But where the Lord has planted grace;
And made his glories known;
There fruits of heavenly joy and peace
Are found, and there alone.
A bleeding Saviour seen by faith,
A sense of pard'ning love;
A hope that triumphs over death,
Give joys like those above.
To take a glimpse within the veil,
To know that God is mine;
Are springs of joy that never fail,
Unspeakably divine!
These are the joys which satisfy,
And sanctify the mind;
Which make the spirit mount on high,
And leave the world behind.
No more, believers, mourn your lot,
But if you are the Lord's
Resign to them that know him not,
Such joys as earth affords.
poem by John Newton
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Psalm 37 part 2
v.16,21,26-31
C. M.
Charity to the poor.
Why do the wealthy wicked boast,
And grow profanely bold?
The meanest portion of the just
Excels the sinner's gold.
The wicked borrows of his friends,
But ne'er designs to pay;
The saint is merciful and lends,
Nor turns the poor away.
His alms with lib'ral heart he gives
Amongst the sons of need;
His mem'ry to long ages lives,
And blessed is his seed.
His lips abhor to talk profane,
To slander or defraud;
His ready tongue declares to men
What he has learned of God.
The law and gospel of the Lord
Deep in his heart abide;
Led by the Spirit and the word,
His feet shall never slide.
When sinners fall, the righteous stand,
Preserved from every snare;
They shall possess the promised land,
And dwell for ever there.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 56
Deliverance from oppression and falsehood.
O Thou whose justice reigns on high,
And makes th' oppressor cease,
Behold how envious sinners try
To vex and break my peace.
The sons of violence and lies
Join to devour me, Lord;
But as my hourly dangers rise,
My refuge is thy word.
In God most holy, just, and true,
I have reposed my trust;
Nor will I fear what flesh can do,
The offspring of the dust.
They wrest my words to mischief still,
Charge me with unknown faults;
Mischief doth all their counsels fill,
And malice all their thoughts.
Shall they escape without thy frown?
Must their devices stand?
O cast the haughty sinner down,
And let him know thy hand.
PAUSE.
God counts the sorrows of his saints,
Their groans affect his ears;
Thou hast a book for my complaints,
A bottle for my tears.
When to thy throne I raise my cry,
The wicked fear and flee;
So swift is prayer to reach the sky,
So near is God to me.
In thee, most holy, just, and true,
I have reposed my trust;
Nor will I fear what man can do,
The offspring of the dust.
Thy solemn vows are on me, Lord,
Thou shalt receive my praise;
I'll sing, "How faithful is thy word,
How righteous all thy ways!"
Thou hast secured my soul from death,
O set thy pris'ner free!
That heart and hand, and life and breath,
May be employ'd for thee.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 75
There is a cup
And the wine is red
And the grapes are crushed in wrath to fill it up
And with blood dipped robes
And armies by His side
He has come to pour the contents of the cup
I will choose the proper time
I will pour down fire on earth
I will judge the wicked and exalt My remnant bride
For the boastful are brought low
And the wicked are cut off
And the armies of the Lord march side by side
So have faith my little ones
The pillars stand secure
I am coming in my glory in the sky
The foundations are not destroyed
And my love it has no end
I will come to reign forever from on high
poem by Frank McEleny
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Psalm 7
God's care of his people.
My trust is in my heav'nly Friend,
My hope in thee, my God;
Rise, and my helpless life defend
From those that seek my blood.
With insolence and fury they
My soul in pieces tear,
As hungry lions rend the prey,
When no deliverer's near.
If I had e'er provoked them first,
Or once abused my foe,
Then let him tread my life to dust,
And lay mine honor low.
If there be malice found in me,
I know thy piercing eyes;
I should not dare appeal to thee,
Nor ask my God to rise.
Arise, my God, lift up thy hand,
Their pride and power control;
Awake to judgment, and command
Deliverance for my soul.
PAUSE.
[Let sinners, and their wicked rage,
Be humbled to the dust;
Shall not the God of truth engage
To vindicate the just?
He knows the heart, he tries the reins,
He will defend th' upright
His sharpest arrows he ordains
Against the sons of spite.
For me their malice digged a pit,
But there themselves are cast;
My God makes all their mischief light
On their own heads at last.]
That cruel, persecuting race
Must feel his dreadful sword:
Awake, my soul, and praise the grace
And justice of the Lord.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Today... 'The Fear of Isaac
The temple shook and it was filled with smoke
and all went silent as the Lord God spoke.
Woe was me filled with dread and all undone
I had seen the Lord, The Almighty One.
In the most holiest of places dwells He
unapproachable by the likes of me.
None may stand before Him or dare draw near
He is Omnipotent and His name is Fear.
To stand before His awful judgement throne
completely naked and all on my own.
My soul lit up under the light of God
all my deeds displayed and the paths I've trod.
My life exposed to His all seeing eyes
the truth made known about my life of lies.
Each deed displayed for all others to see
would be so dreadful and shameful for me.
Can anyone pass this great test of holiness?
One sin would condemn to unworthiness.
Is there any hope for the someone like me?
Oh where can I go or where can I flee?
Then I heard the tender voice of Jesus say
'Come to me for I am the only Way.'
'I've paid the price, God's law is satisfied'
'When upon the cross in your place I died.'
It's fearful to fall into the hands of God
but deliverance can come from the Lord.
But the fear God is the greatest of wisdom
for through Christ we enter into His kingdom.
So like Job let's fear God and shun evil.
Flee from the temptations of the devil
and then we sin in repentance we cry
'Lord wash us in Your blood or we shall die.'
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
I stand tall
I stand tall.
Time to take off.
Ready set go.
Oh don't you know?
This is my show.
Mine, mine, mine from the depths of the greed from the supposed truly divine.
Corruption is my conquest.
But I still stand tall.
Pride comes before my fall.
I'm sorry to say i want it all.
Everything I can grab or nab.
Ambition is its name.
It can be a very dirty game.
Get ahead over, under any way through even if it means I have to hurt you.
Human nature at its best and worse.
An objective that will not change.
Point your finger and blame. It's always someone Else's fault never your own.
A repetitious scapegoat with no name.
No claim.
Just another little dirty stain on society.
So I stand tall.
Cause I'm taking it all.
I will breach the pearly gates.
I will escape the fiery pits.
The suffering must end.
It's not something I plan to defend.
I just want too win.
Gambling is all about knowing when to get in and out without any doubt.
So I stand tall.
I will have it all.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Psalm 5
For the Lord's Day Morning.
Lord, in the morning thou shalt hear
My voice ascending high;
To thee will I direct my prayer,
To thee lift up mine eye;
Up to the hills where Christ is gone
To plead for all his saints,
Presenting at his Father's throne
Our songs and our complaints.
Thou art a God, before whose sight
The wicked shall not stand;
Sinners shall ne'er be thy delight,
Nor dwell at thy right hand.
But to thy house will I resort,
To taste thy mercies there;
I will frequent thine holy court,
And worship in thy fear.
O may thy Spirit guide my feet
In ways of righteousness!
Make every path of duty straight,
And plain before my face.
PAUSE.
My watchful enemies combine
To tempt my feet astray;
They flatter, with a base design
To make my soul their prey.
Lord, crush the serpent in the dust,
And all his plots destroy;
While those that in thy mercy trust,
For ever shout for joy.
The men that love and fear thy name
Shall see their hopes fulfilled;
The mighty God will compass them
With favor as a shield.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 37 part 3
v.23-87
C. M.
The way and end of the righteous and the wicked.
My God, the steps of pious men
Are ordered by thy will;
Though they should fall, they rise again,
Thy hand supports them still.
The Lord delights to see their ways,
Their virtue he approves;
He'll ne'er deprive them of his grace,
Nor leave the men he loves.
The heav'nly heritage is theirs,
Their portion and their home;
He feeds them now, and makes them heirs
Of blessings long to come.
Wait on the Lord, ye sons of men,
Nor fear when tyrants frown;
Ye shall confess their pride was vain,
When justice casts them down.
PAUSE.
The haughty sinner have I seen,
Nor fearing man nor God,
Like a tall bay-tree, fair and green,
Spreading his arms abroad.
And lo! he vanished from the ground,
Destroyed by hands unseen;
Nor root, nor branch, nor leaf was found
Where all that pride had been.
But mark the man of righteousness,
His several steps attend;
True pleasure runs through all his ways,
And peaceful is his end.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 11
If the foundations be destroyed
What can the righteous do
For broad is the road that leads to hell
And the narrow road finds the few
And the enemy says to my soul
Fly like a bird in the night
For look, the wicked bend their bow
Now its time for you to take flight
But I shall stand upon the Lord
In Him I shall put my trust
For His eyes are on the sons of men
For all shall return to dust
Fire and brimestone and a burning wind
Shall be their portion, their lot
But the child of God shall stand that day
For by His blood they were bought
poem by Frank McEleny
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Accolade Syndrome
wrap in golden coated and commonly
shown in every occasion, but rarely be
touched by any men, for each piece belong
to somebody whom everybody knows
praise comes in any direction, that day
remembered only the night not on the value
of feasting; neither the star shine nor off,
the morning becomes the day to die for honor
high esteem of courage live again to the
pedestal of dominion believing that all has
to vow before the Lord thy God, yet coated
with pride and greed the rain comes earlier
than tomorrow
wisdom reshuffle for power, wasting
the time with collision, forgetting that still
the branches has to hatch the egg, blinded
with faith drunk with prestige and honor
settle me down Lord and hit me with pain
for suffering is a feast to remember that I
am just only a man...
poem by Antonio Liao
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View Me, Lord, a Work of Thine
View me, Lord, a work of thine!
Shall I then lie downed in night?
Might thy grace in me but shine,
I should seem made all of light.
Cleanse me, Lord, that I may kneel
At thine altar pure and white;
They at once thy mercies feel,
Gaze no more on earth's delight.
Worldly joys like shadows fade
When the heavenly light appears;
But the covenants Thou hast made,
Endless, know not days nor years.
In thy word, Lord, is my trust,
To thy mercies fast I fly;
Though I am but clay and dust,
Yet thy grace can lift me high.
poem by Thomas Campion
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Hymn 41
The same; or, The martyrs glorified.
Rev. 7:13ff.
"These glorious minds, how bright they shine!
Whence all their white array?
How came they to the happy seats
Of everlasting day?"
From torturing pains to endless joys
On fiery wheels they rode,
And strangely washed their raiment white
In Jesus' dying blood.
Now they approach a spotless God,
And bow before his throne
Their warbling harps and sacred songs
Adore the Holy One.
The unveiled glories of his face
Amongst his saints reside,
While the rich treasure of his grace
Sees all their wants supplied.
Tormenting thirst shall leave their souls,
And hunger flee as fast;
The fruit of life's immortal tree
Shall be their sweet repast.
The Lamb shall lead his heav'nly flock
Where living fountains rise;
And love divine shall wipe away
The sorrows of their eyes.
poem by Isaac Watts
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