Psalm I

THE Man is blest, whose doubtful Paths
Unrul'd by Sinners are;
Who in their Council never stood,
Nor sat ith' Scorners Chair.
But in the Law of God the Lord
Hath fixt his whole delight;
And in that Law does exercise
Himself both Day and Night.

He shall be like a Tree, which grows
Close by the Rivers side;
Whose loaded Boughs in Fruits return
Their Tribute to the Tide.
No Storm or Drought shall make him fade,
But he unmov'd shall stand;
Nor shall Success less prosp'rous crown,
What e're he takes in hand.

No so the Wicked, who as Chaff
By Tempests rais'd on high,
The triumph of fierce Winds are made,
And as they drive them, flie.
Unlike in Life, unlike shall be
The ends which on them wait;
Whilst these in Judgment cannot stand,
And those are prais'd ith' Gate.
For why the ways of Righteous Men
Unto the Lord are known:
But Sinners ways, hid to themselves,
Unto the Dead lead down.