1 Lord, if thou dost not soon appear,
Virtue and truth will fly away;
A faithful man, amongst us here,
Will scarce be found if thou delay.

2 The whole discourse, when neighbours meet,
Is fill'd with trifles loose and vain;
Their lips are flattery and deceit,
And their proud language is profane.

3 But lips, that with deceit abound,
Shall not maintain their triumph long;
The God of vengeance will confound
The flattering and blaspheming tongue.

4 "Yet shall our words be free," they cry,
"Our tongue shall be controll'd by none:
"Where is the Lord will ask us why?
"Or say, our lips are not our own?"

5 The Lord who sees the poor opprest,
And hears th' oppressor's haughty strain,
Will rise to give his children rest,
Nor shall they trust his word in vain.

6 Thy word, O Lord, tho' often try'd,
Void of deceit shall still appear
Not silver, seven times purify'd
From dross and mixture, shines so clear.

7 Thy grace shall in the darkest hour
Defend the holy soul from harm;
Tho' when the vilest men have power
On every side will sinners swarm.