Blest is the man who shuns the place
Where sinners love to meet;
Who fears to tread their wicked ways,
And hates the scoffer’s seat.

But in the statutes of the Lord
Has placed his chief delight;
By day he reads or hears the Word,
And meditates by night.

He, like a plant of generous kind,
By living waters set,
Safe from the storms and blasting wind,
Enjoys a peaceful state.

Green as the leaf, and ever fair,
Shall his profession shine;
While fruits of holiness appear
Like clusters on the vine.

Not so the impious and unjust;
What vain designs they form!
Their hopes are blown away like dust,
Or chaff before the storm.

Sinners in judgment shall not stand
Amongst the sons of grace,
When Christ, the Judge, at His right hand
Appoints His saints a place.

His eye beholds the path they tread,
His heart approves it well;
But crooked ways of sinners lead
Down to the gates of hell.

Happy the man whose cautious feet
Shun the broad way that sinners go,
Who hates the place where atheists meet,
And fears to talk as scoffers do.

He loves t’employ the morning light
Amongst the statutes of the Lord;
And spends the wakeful hours of night,
With pleasure, pond’ring o’er His Word.

He, like a plant by gentle streams,
Shall flourish in immortal green;
And Heav’n will shine with kindest beams
On ev’ry work his hands begin.

But sinners find their counsels cross’d:
As chaff before the tempest flies,
So shall their hopes be blown and lost,
When the last trumpet shakes the skies.

In vain the rebel seeks to stand
In judgment with the pious race;
The dreadful Judge, with stern command,
Divides him to a diff’rent place.

“Straight is the way My saints have trod;
I bless’d the path, and drew it plain;
But you would choose the crooked road,
And down it leads to endless pain.”

The man is ever bless’d
Who shuns the sinners’ ways,
Among their councils never stands,
Nor takes the scorner’s place;

But makes the law of God
His study and delight,
Amidst the labors of the day,
And watches of the night.

He like a tree shall thrive,
With waters near the root;
Fresh as the leaf his name shall live;
His works are heav’nly fruit.

Not so th’ungodly race,
They no such blessings find;
Their hopes shall flee, like empty chaff
Before the driving wind.

How will they bear to stand
Before that judgment seat,
Where all the saints, at Christ’s right hand,
In full assembly meet!

He knows, and He approves
The way the righteous go;
But sinners and their works shall meet
A dreadful overthrow.

That man is blest who, fearing God
From sin restrains his feet,
Who will not stand with wicked men,
Who shuns the scorners’ seat.

Yea, blest is he who makes God’s law
His portion and delight,
And meditates upon that law
With gladness day and night.

That man is nourished like a tree
Set by the river’s side;
Its leaf is green, its fruit is sure,
And thus his works abide.

The wicked like the driven chaff
Are swept from off the land;
They shall not gather with the just,
Nor in the judgment stand.

The Lord will guard the righteous well,
Their way to Him is known;
The way of sinners, far from God,
Shall surely be o’erthrown.

Blest is he who loves God’s precepts,
Who from sin restrains his feet,
He who will not stand with sinners,
He who shuns the scorners’ seat.

Blest is he who makes the statutes
Of the Lord his chief delight,
In God’s law, divinely perfect,
Meditating day and night.

He is like a tree well planted
By the flowing river’s side,
Ever green of leaf and fruitful:
Thus shall all his works abide.

Like the driven chaff the wicked
Shall be swept from off the land
With the just they shall not gather,
Nor shall in the judgment stand.

Well the Lord will guard the righteous,
For their way to Him is known;
But the way of evildoers
Shall by Him be overthrown.

I love to think my Father knows
Why I have missed the path I chose,
And that I soon shall clearly see
The way He led was best for me.

Refrain

He knows it all, He knows it all,
My Father knows, He knows it all;
Thy bitter tears how fast they fall!
He knows, my Father knows it all.

I love to think my Father knows
The thorns I pluck with every rose
The daily griefs I seek to hide
From the dear soulsI walk beside.

Refrain

I love to think my Father knows
The strength or weakness of my foes,
And that I need but stand and see
Each conflict end in victory.

Refrain