Chapter 72

What bounty God shews, what divine bounty, to the upright, to the pure of heart!

Yet I was near losing my foothold, felt the ground sink under my steps,

such heart-burning had I at seeing the good fortune of sinners that defy his law;

for them, never a pang; healthy and sleek their bodies shew.

Not for these to share man’s common lot of trouble; the plagues which afflict human kind still pass them by.

No wonder if pride clings to them like a necklace, if they flaunt, like fine clothes, their wrong-doing.

From those pampered hearts what malice proceeds, what vile schemes are hatched!

Ever jeering, ever talking maliciously, throned on high they preach injustice;

their clamour reaches heaven, and their false tales win currency on earth.

Enviously the men of my own race look on, to see them draining life’s cup to the full;

Can God, they ask, be aware of this? Does the most High know of all that passes?

Look at these sinners, how they live at peace, how they rise to greatness!

Why then, thought I, it is to no purpose that I have kept my heart true, and washed my hands clean in pureness of living;

still, all the while, I am plagued for it, and no morning comes but my scourging is renewed.

Was I to share their thoughts? Nay, that were to put the whole company of thy children in the wrong.

I set myself to read the riddle, but it proved a hard search,

until I betook myself to God’s sanctuary, and considered, there, what becomes of such men at last.

The truth is, thou art making a slippery path for their feet, ready to plunge them in ruin;

in a moment they are fallen, in a storm of terrors vanished and gone.

And thou, Lord, dost rise up and brush aside all their imaginings, as a waking man his dream.

What if my mind was full of bitterness, what if I was pierced to the heart?

I was all dumbness, I was all ignorance,

standing there like a brute beast in thy presence. Yet ever thou art at my side,

ever holdest me by my right hand. Thine to guide me with thy counsel, thine to welcome me into glory at last.

What else does heaven hold for me, but thyself? What charm for me has earth, here at thy side?

What though flesh of mine, heart of mine, should waste away? Still God will be my heart’s stronghold, eternally my inheritance.

Lost those others may be, who desert thy cause, lost are all those who break their troth with thee;

I know no other content but clinging to God, putting my trust in the Lord, my Master; within the gates of royal Sion I will be the herald of thy praise.