1 Of mercy, Lord, of judgment, I will sing,
Thy justice and thy truth, eternal king;
2 This will I make my firm, my constant rule,
Still to improve in wisdom's sacred school,
Still on thy kind protection to depend,
To keep my hands still clean, my heart unstain'd.
3 The ways of wickedness I'll scorn to view;
The road thy law directs me, I'll pursue;
The wily arts of fraudful men I'll hate,
Of men who by oppression wou'd be great.
4 Far from my social hours the froward be;
The villain-herd shall ne'er converse with me;
5 By me the private sland'rer be abhorr'd,
The cruel wretch that murders with a word;
The haughty proud, whose empty hearts are vain,
Whose looks are lofty, I alike disdain ;
6 While men of open true simplicity
Shall to my converse and my board be free;
While men, who hate oppression, fraud and wrong,
Shall have my favour, and shall serve me long.
7 Avaunt, ye wicked, that deceive and lie,
You're odious to my thought my presence fly;
8 Yes; all ye impious, hasten quick, away;
Sure is my wrath, nor shall I long delay;
Of all your guilt the city I will clear;
Perdition waits you, and your fate is near.