Classic Poem

When man grows bold in sin,
My heart within me cries,—
“He hath no faith of God within,
Nor fear before his eyes.”

He walks awhile conceal'd
In a self-flatt'ring dream,
Till his dark crimes, at once reveal'd,
Expose his hateful name.

His heart is false and foul,
His words are smooth and fair;
Wisdom is banish'd from his soul,
And leaves no goodness there.

He plots upon his bed
New mischiefs to fulfil;
He sets his heart, his hand and head,
To practise all that's ill.

But there's a dreadful God,
Though men renounce his fear;
His justice, hid behind the cloud,
Shall one great day appear.