Afflicted Saints Happy, and Prosperous Sinners Cursed

Verse 1

Now I’m convinc'd the Lord is kind To men of heart sincere, Yet once my foolish thoughts repin'd, And border'd on despair.

Verse 2

I griev'd to see the wicked thrive, And spoke with angry breath, “How pleasant and profane they live! How peaceful is their death!

Verse 3

With well-fed flesh and haughty eyes, They lay their fears to sleep; Against the heavens their slanders rise, While saints in silence weep.

Verse 4

In vain I lift my hands to pray, And cleanse my heart in vain; For I am chast'ned all the day, The night renews my pain."

Verse 5

Yet while my tongue indulg'd complaints, I felt my heart reprove; "Sure I shall thus offend thy saints, And grieve the men I love."

Verse 6

But still I found my doubts too hard, The conflict too severe; 'Till I retir'd to search thy word, And learn thy secrets there.

Verse 7

There as in some prophetic glass, I saw the sinner’s feet High mounted on a slipp'ry place Beside a fiery pit.

Verse 8

I heard the wretch profanely boast, 'Till at thy frown he fell; His honours in a dream were lost, And he awakes in hell.

Verse 9

Lord, what an envious fool I was! How like a thoughtless beast! Thus to suspect thy promis'd grace, And think the wicked blest.

Verse 10

Yet I was kept from full despair, Upheld by pow'r unknown; That blessèd hand that broke the snare Shall guide me to thy throne.