129. The Prosperity of Sinners cursed

1 Lord, what a thoughtless wretch was I,
To mourn, and murmur, and repine
To see the wicked plac'd on high,
In pride and robes of honour shine!

2 But, oh their end, their dreadful end!
Thy sanctuary taught me so:
On slippery rocks I see them stand,
And fiery billows roll below.

3 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.

4 Their fancy'd joys how fast they flee!
Like dreams, as fleeting and as vain;
Their songs of softest harmony,
Are but a preface to their pain.

5 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.

Text Information
First Line: Lord, what a thoughtless wretch was I
Title: The Prosperity of Sinners cursed
Meter: Long Metre
Language: English
Publication Date: 1786
Scripture: ; ; ;
Topic: Afflicted Saints happy; Delight: in God; God: our portion here and hereafter (3 more...)
Notes: Now Public Domain.
Tune Information
(No tune information)



Media
More media are available on the text authority page.

Suggestions or corrections? Contact us
It looks like you are using an ad-blocker. Ad revenue helps keep us running. Please consider white-listing Hymnary.org or getting Hymnary Pro to eliminate ads entirely and help support Hymnary.org.