Fret Not Thyself

Fret not thy­self

nor en­vi­ous be

When wick­ed work­ers thou shalt see

Who pros­per in their way;

For like the grass they per­ish soon

And

like the herb cut down at noon

They wi­ther in a day.

Trust in the Lord and still do well

Within the land se­cure­ly dwell

Feed on His faith­ful­ness;

Delight thee al­so in the Lord

And to thy heart He will ac­cord

The good it would pos­sess.

Yea

to the Lord thy way is known;

Confide in Him who on the throne

Abides in pow­er di­vine;

Thy right­eous­ness He shall dis­play;

Resplendent as the light of day

It shall un­cloud­ed shine.

Rest in the Lord and be thou still

With pa­tience wait His ho­ly will

Enduring to the end.

Fret not though sin­ners’ gains in­crease;

Forsake thy wrath

from an­ger cease;

It will to ev­il tend.

The ev­il-do­er soon shall die

But those that on the Lord re­ly

Shall all the land ob­tain.

A lit­tle while and thou shalt see

That wick­ed man cut off shall be

They shall be sought in vain.

Yea

thou shalt soon con­sid­er well

The place where they were wont to dwell

And it shall not be found;

But saints shall all the land pos­sess

And find de­light and hap­pi­ness

Where fruits of peace abound.

The vile may plot against the just

Who in the Lord Je­ho­vah trust

But God will scorn them all;

The Lord their com­ing day shall see

When brok­en all their pow­er shall be

And ru­in on them fall.