Cursed is the man who trusts in man,
While making flesh his strength;
Turning away from the Lord’s plan,
Distantly straying at a length.
He has been like a tumbleweed,
And shall not see anything good;
Buries himself just like a seed,
In the wilderness under wood.
Bless the man who trusts in the Lord,
For the Lord is his only hope;
While walking in one accord,
And when stressful able to cope.
He is like a tree by water,
Sending out its roots to the stream;
And bearing fruit through his daughter,
To whom the Lord who did redeem.
He does not fear of coming heat,
As his leaves are remaining green;
The fruit ripens and tasting sweet,
Freshest fruit you have ever seen.
The deceitful heart above all,
Which can be desperately sick;
The wicked eventually fall,
But over time and not that quick.
The Lord searches the heart and mind,
To give each man as to his ways;
The fruit of his deeds are aligned,
To follow the Lord all his days.
Like a partridge gathers a brood,
To get riches not by justice;
With a spiritual attitude,
Following in the Lord’s practice.
A glorious high throne from the start,
Inside our sanctuary;
Being implanted in your heart,
That stops you having to wary.
The hope of all who would forsake,
That you shall find be put to shame;
Those who turn away that shall make,
Easily for you to proclaim.
Those who would turn away from you,
Shall be written into the earth;
The living water will renew,
That is giving you a rebirth.
Copyright © 2020 Richard Newton Sherrer
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