1 Lord, if thou dost not soon appear, Virtue and truth will fly away; A faithful man, amongst us here, Will scarce be found if thou delay.
2 The whole discourse, when neighbours meet, Is fill'd with trifles loose and vain; Their lips are flattery and deceit, And their proud language is profane.
3 But lips, that with deceit abound, Shall not maintain their triumph long; The God of vengeance will confound The flattering and blaspheming tongue.
4 "Yet shall our words be free," they cry, "Our tongue shall be controll'd by none: "Where is the Lord will ask us why? "Or say, our lips are not our own?"
5 The Lord who sees the poor opprest, And hears th' oppressor's haughty strain, Will rise to give his children rest, Nor shall they trust his word in vain.
6 Thy word, O Lord, tho' often try'd, Void of deceit shall still appear Not silver, seven times purify'd From dross and mixture, shines so clear.
7 Thy grace shall in the darkest hour Defend the holy soul from harm; Tho' when the vilest men have power On every side will sinners swarm.