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Poem by Robert Burns


The First Psalm


THE man, in life wherever placd,
  Hath happiness in store,
Who walks not in the wickeds way,
  Nor learns their guilty lore:

Nor from the seat of scornful pride
  Casts forth his eyes abroad,
But with humility and awe
  Still walks before his God.

That man shall flourish like the trees
  Which by the streamlets grow;
The fruitful top is spread on high,
  And firm the root below.

But he whose blossom buds in guilt
  Shall to the ground be cast,
And like the rootless stubble tost
  Before the sweeping blast.

For-why that God the good adore
  Hath givn them peace and rest,
But hath decreed that wicked men
  Shall neer be truly blest.



                      Robert Burns


Robert Burns's other poems:
  1. Scroggam
  2. Lines Written on a Bank-note
  3. Lines Written at Loudon Manse
  4. To Alex Cunningham, Writer
  5. How Lang And Dreary


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