The man, in life where-ever plac'd,
Hath happiness in store,
Who walks not in the wicked's way,
Nor learns their guilty lore!
Nor from the seat of scornful Pride
Casts forth his eyes abroad,
But with humility and awe
Still walks before his God.
That man shall flourish like the trees
Which by the streamlets grow;
The fruitful top is spread on high,
And firm the root below.
But he whose blossom buds in guilt
Shall to the ground be cast,
And like the rootless stubble tost,
Before the sweeping blast.
For why? That God the good adore
Hath giv'n them peace and rest,
But hath decreed that wicked men
Shall ne'er be truly blest.
The First Psalm by Robert Burns.
Photo of box pews by Alistair.
5 comments:
Great poem!
Not being a great Burns afficianado it's not one I'd heard before. I liked it too! {duh - well obviously Alistair!}
I'd never heard this one before, and I normally quite like Burns, but this one seems to lack his usual opposition to the establishment.
Being a wee Sassanach lassie, much of Robert Burns work is unknown to me, but he wrote well, I'll give him that . . .
Never heard that one before. It rings true, at least from where I sit :) I'm going to return soon to read the rest of the posts I've missed lately. So busy I am, but it will be lovely to read more about your trip to Lake Garda.
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