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 his morning light Amongst the statutes of the Lord: And spends the wakeful hours at night, With pleasure pondering o'er the word.
3 He like a plant by gentle streams, Shall flourish in immortal green; And heaven will shine with kindest beams On every 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 different place.
6 "Straight 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.