Dost fail to please thy kind?--It is a sad disgrace! Enough, if on thee smile thy heav'nly Father's face. The worst that man can do is to betray and leave thee; But God is righteous, and His judgment can't deceive thee. Doth He say, "Thou art Mine, thy way doth please Me well?" Then be thy heart consol'd, let joy thy bosom swell, Cast to the wind the lies by wicked men indited, Be still, and thou shalt see, by God shall all be righted. Pride, arrogance, and pomp are ne'er enduring found, Like brightest glass they fall, and break upon the ground; So when the luck of men has mounted up to heaven, It soon comes crashing down, and on the earth lies riven. And all ill-gotten wealth, when right our estimate, Is on the heart and mind a dead oppressive weight That burdens evermore, with pain the conscience wringeth, Its quiet rest disturbs, and into trouble bringeth. And what have many more than of the poor the sweat? What do they eat and drink, and what gain do they get? They rob the widows' store, spite of their tears them wronging, Who like a thirsty land for sympathy are longing. Is this felicity? is this magnificence? Oh! what a sentence dire will God the Judge pronounce Upon the day of doom, when from His throne so loudly It sounds, how shall they seem who strut and boast so proudly! But thou who now thy God dost honour with whole heart, And never from His ways dost let thy feet depart, Shalt in the goodly throng, whom God with manna feedeth, With praise and honour clad, walk with Him where he leadeth. In patience, then, possess thy soul a little while, Do right, and persevere and live all free from guile, Act that the fairest prize in yonder life be given Thee, from His gracious hand who rules in earth and heaven. Whate'er on earth betide, from care remain all free, 'Twill fall out for thy good, as God the best may see; Rest thou assur'd, He will no wish of thine deny thee, With joy fulfil thy will, with every good supply thee. "I WILL ENDURE THE INDIGNATION OF THE LORD."--MICAH VII. I have deserv'd it, cease t' oppose The Lord's will, shall I never? Thou bitter cup, thou heavy cross, Come hither to me ever! From pain all free May never be He 'gainst the Lord who fighteth, As I each day, Who trod the way Wherein the world delighteth. I'll bear the chastisement of God, A patient soul possessing, For born in sin, sin's path I trod, Aye ventur'd on transgressing, That pleasures vain I might attain, In wantonness time wasting, The gracious word Of God the Lord, As I ought, never tasting.