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132

THE 112TH PSALM OF DAVID.

Wol dem, der den Herren scheuet

8,7,8,7,7,7,8,8

134

Bless’d is he the Lord who loveth,

At His word doth tremble aye!

Bless’d whose heart him freely moveth

God’s commandments to obey.

Who the Highest loves and fears,

Findeth increase with the years

Of all that to him is given

By the bounteous hand of Heaven.

His dear children shall stand ever

Like to roses in their blow;

Flowing with God’s goodness over,

On his generations go.

What the body needs below

God who rules all will bestow,

He will bounteously relieve them,

Plenty in their dwellings give them.

The right deeds of the believer

Nought can shake, they stand secure;

If a storm o’ertakes him ever,

Still doth God, his Light endure,

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Comforts, shieldeth with His pow’r,

So that after darkness’ hour,

After night of tears and sorrow,

Joy and sunshine glad the morrow.

God’s compassion, grace, and favour

For the faithful still endure.

Blessèd are the souls who ever

Think upon the needy poor,

Love them, seek to do them good;

For the ever-living God

In His arms of grace will bear them,

And a home above prepare them.

When the black clouds o’er them lighten,

And the pealing thunders shock,

They shall sit, and nought shall frighten,

Like the dove hid in the rock;

They’ll remain eternally,

And their memory shall be

Upon every side extending,

As their branches trees are sending.

When misfortunes overtake them,

Whereby sinners low are laid,

Firm their courage, nought can shake them,

And their hearts are undismay’d;

Undismay’d, from care are free,

Hearts that unreservedly

To the Lord their God are given,

Love Him when forsaken even.

Who delight take in relieving

Sad ones, to the Lord are dear;

What the loving hands are giving,

God will recompense e’en here.

Who much giveth much will gain,

He shall not desire in vain,

What his heart desires and willeth,

God in His good time fulfilleth.

But the foes who triumph’d o’er them,

They shall see depart beneath;

Satan who such malice bore them,

Evermore shall gnash his teeth:

135

Sorely will it him displease

When their blessedness he sees,

Yet that he can rob them never,

Only waste himself for ever.

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