1 Why boast'st thou, tyrant, thy high crimes aloud?
Our God is ever to the righteous good:
2 Thy guileful tongue (a falshood ev'ry word)
More fatal pierces, than the keenest sword;
3 Mischief thou lov'st, and goodness dost despise,
Truth hath thy hate; thy dear amusement lies;
4 A Slander, big with ruin, gives thee joy;
5 Therefore th' avenging God shall thee destroy,
Shall root thee out, that thou be seen no more,
While man in vain thy dwelling shall explore.
6 This shall the righteous view with joyful fear,
Smile at thy punshment, and heav'n revere.
7 "Lo! this the man (they'll cry) with impious pride
"Who brav'd his maker, and his pow'r defied;
"Who his frail riches made his strength, and strove
"By villain-arts to mate our Lord above!"
8 For me, I'll, like an olive, flourish long;
I'll in the mercies of my God be strong;
I in his house will dwell; and night and day,
The wonders of his mighty arm display;
9 His glorious works, his clemency, proclaim,
And hail for ever his tremendous name.