Lord, what a thoughtless wretch was I,
To mourn, and murmur and repine,
To see the wicked placed on high,
In pride and robes of honor shine.
But oh, their end, their dreadful end,
Thy sanctuary taught me so,
On slipp'ry rocks I see them stand,
And fiery billows roll below.

A selection of hymns, chiefly Watts's, for use in public Christian worship (ed. 1853)