Put into Verse

Blest is the man, who ne’er hath stay’d Where sinners idly meet, Nor in their dangerous mazes stray’d, Nor press’d the scorner’s seat!

But still the Lord’s eternal law Proves his uncloy’d delight, To ponder it with sacred awe Each passing day and night.

Like the fair tree, beside the stream, Whose roots the waters lave; While ripening in the summer beam, Its fruits luxuriant wave.

No blight shall on his leaf descend, For still hath Heav’n decreed, That full prosperity attend His every thought and deed.

But for the unrepenting race, Not such their transient day, They are like chaff, which wild winds chase, Scatter’d from earth away.

Therefore the wicked shall not stand In Judgment’s dread abode, Nor sinners ’midst the righteous band That meet before their God.

For He discerns the pure of heart, But, at the impious hurl’d, Eternal Vengeance speeds the dart, Which strikes them from the world.