1 Why dost thou, tyrant, boast abroad
thy wicked works to praise?
Dost thou not know there is a God,
whose mercies last always?

2 Why doth thy mind yet still devise
such wicked wiles to harp?
Thy tongue untrue in forging lies
is like a razor sharp.

3 On mischief why sett'st thou thy mind,
and wilt not walk upright?
Thou lovest more false tales to find,
than bring the truth to light.

4 Thou dost delight in fraud and guile,
In mischief, blood and wrong;
Thy lips have learnt the flatt'ring style,
O false deceitful tongue!

5 Therefore the Lord shall thee confound,
and pluck thee from thy place,
Thy seed root out from off the ground,
and utterly deface.

6 The just, when they behold thy fall,
with fear will praise the Lord,
And in reproach of thee withal
cry but with one accord;

7 Behold the man that did refuse
the Lord for his defence,
But in his riches great did place
his trust and confidence.

8 But I, as olive fresh and green
shall spring and spread abroad,
Because my trust all times hath been
upon the living God.

9 For this therefore will I give praise
to thee with heart and voice,
I will advance thy Name always,
wherein thy saints rejoice.