1 Happy the man whose cautious feet
Shun the broad way that sinners go,
Who hates the place where atheists meet,
And fears to talk as scoffers do.
2 He loves t' employ the morning-light
Amongst the statutes of the LORD;
And spends the wakeful hours of night
With pleasure pond'ring o'er his word.
3 He like a plant by gentle streams
Shall flourish in immortal green;
And heaven will shine with kindest beams
On ev'ry work his hands begin.
4 But sinners find their counsels crost
As chaff before the tempest flies,
So shall their hopes be blown and lost,
When the last trumpet shakes the skies.
5 In vain the rebel seeks to stand
In judgment with the pious race;
The dreadful Judge with stern command
Divides him to a diff'rent place.
6 "Strait is the way my saints have trod,
"I blest the path and drew it plain;
"But you would choose the crooked road,
"And down it leads to endless pain."
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