Poem by Isaac Watts

Psalm 73

v.22,3,6,17-20
L. M.
The prosperity of sinners cursed.

Lord, what a thoughtless wretch was I,
To mourn, and murmur, and repine,
To see the wicked placed on high,
In pride and robes of honor shine!

But O their end, their dreadful end!
Thy sanctuary taught me so;
On slipp'ry rocks I see them stand,
And fiery billows roll below.

Now let them boast how tall they rise,
I'll never envy them again;
There they may stand with haughty eyes,
Till they plunge deep in endless pain.

Their fancied joys, how fast they flee!
Just like a dream when man awakes;
Their songs of softest harmony
Are but a preface to their plagues.

Now I esteem their mirth and wine
Too dear to purchase with my blood;
Lord, 'tis enough that thou art mine,
My life, my portion, and my God. 

1. Psalm 46. Part 1 (God is the refuge of his saints)
2. Hymn 99 (Let the whole race of creatures lie)
3. Psalm 150 (In God's own house pronounce his praise)
4. Psalm 136 (Give thanks to God most high)
5. Psalm 121 (To heav'n I lift my waiting eyes)

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