1 Sure there's a righteous God,
Nor is religion vain;
Tho' men of vice may boast aloud,
And men of grace complain.
2 I saw the wicked rise,
And felt my heart repine,
While haughty fools with scornful eyes,
In robes of honour shine.
[3 Pamper'd with wonton ease,
Their flesh looks full and fair,
Their wealth rolls in like flowing seas,
And grows without their care.
4 Free from the plagues and pains
That pious souls endure,
Thro' all their life oppression reigns,
And racks the humble poor.
5 Their impious tongues blaspheme
The everlasting God:
Their malice blasts the good man's name,
And spreads their lies abroad.
6 But I with flowing tears
Indulg'd my doubts to rise;
"Is there a God that sees or hears
"The things below the skies?"
7 The tumult of my thought
Held me in hard suspense,
'Till to thy house my feet were brought
To learn thy justice thence.
8 Thy word with light and pow'r
Did my mistake amend;
I view'd the sinners' life before,
But here I learnt their end.
9 On what a slipp'ry steep
The thoughtless wretches go;
And Oh! that dreadful fiery deep
That waits their fall below!
10 Lord, at thy feet I bow,
My thoughts no more repine:
I call my God my portion now,
And all my pow'rs are thine.