Classic Poem

Psal. I.

In the tune of 148. Psalme;

Giue laud vnto the Lord.

Who hath not walkt astray,
In wicked mens advise,
Nor stood in sinners way;
Nor in their companyes
That scorners are,
As their fit mate,
In scoffing chayre,
Hath euer sate;

But in thy lawes diuine,
O Lord sets his delight,
And in those lawes of thine
Studies all day and night;
Oh, how that man
Thrise blessed is!
And sure shall gaine
Eternall blisse.

He shall be like the tree,
Set by the water-springs,
Which when his seasons be
Most pleasant fruite forth-brings:
Whose boughes so greene
Shall neuer fade,
But couered bene
With comely shade.

So, to this happy wight,
All his designes shall thriue:
Whereas the man vnright,
As chaff which winds do driue,
With euery blast
Is tost on hy,
Nor can at last
In safety lie.

Wherefore, in that sad doome,
They dare not rise from dust:
Nor shall no Sinner come
To glory of the iust.
For, God will grace
The Iust-mans way;
While sinners race
Runs to decay.