Classic Poem

Tyrant, why swel'st thou thus,
Of mischief vaunting?
Since helpe from God to us,
Is never wanting?

Lewd lies thy tongue contrives,
Lowd lies it soundeth:
Sharper than sharpest knives
With lies it woundeth.

Falshood thy witt approves,
All truth rejected:
Thy will all vices loves,
Vertue neglected.

Not wordes from cursed thee,
But gulfes are powred;
Gulfes wherin daily bee
Good men devoured.

Think'st thou to beare it soe?
God shall displace thee;
God shall thee overthrow,
Crush thee, deface thee.

The just shall fearing see
These fearefull chaunces:
And laughing shoote at thee
With scornfull glances.

Loe, loe, the wretched wight,
Who God disdaining,
His mischief made his might,
His guard his gaining.

I as an olive tree,
Still green shall fourish:
Gods house the soile shall bee
My rootes to nourish.

My trust on his true love
Truly attending,
Shall never thence remove,
Never see ending.

Thee will I honor still
Lord, for this justice:
There fix my hopes I will
Where thy saincts trust is.

Thy saints trust in thy name,
Therein they joy them:
Protected by the same
Nought can annoy them.