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Poem by John Newton
How blest the righteous are When they resign their breath! No wonder Balaam wished to share In such a happy death. Oh! let me die, said he, The death the righteous do; When life is ended let me be Found with the faithful few. The force of truth how great! When enemies confess, None but the righteous whom they hate, A solid hope possess. But Balaam's wish was vain, His heart was insincere; He thirsted for unrighteous gain, And sought a portion here. He seemed the Lord to know, And to offend him loth; But Mammon proved his overthrow, For none can serve them both. May you, my friends, and I, Warning from hence receive; If like the righteous we would die, To choose the life they live.
John Newton's other poems:
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