Happy the Man Who Feareth God

Happy the man who fear­eth God

Whose feet His ho­ly ways have trod;

Thine own good hand shall nour­ish thee

And well and hap­py shalt thou be.

Thy wife shall

like a fruit­ful vine

Fill all thy house with clus­ters fine;

Thy child­ren all be fresh and sound

Like ol­ive-plants thy ta­ble round.

Lo! to the man these bless­ings cleave

Who in God’s ho­ly fear doth live;

From him the an­cient curse hath fled

By Ad­am’s race in­her­it­ed.

Out of Mount Zion God shall send

And crown with joy thy lat­ter end;

That thou Je­ru­sa­lem mayst see

In fa­vor and pros­per­ity.

He shall be with thee in thy ways

And give thee health and length of days;

Yea

thou shalt child­ren’s child­ren see

And peace on Is­ra­el shall be.