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Hymn/Song Information

TRUST OF THE WICKED




As parched in the barren sands
Beneath a burning sky,
The worthless bramble with'ring stands,
And only grows to die.


Such is the sinner's aweful case,
Who makes the world his trust;
And dares his confidence to place
In vanity and dust.


A secret curse destroys his root,
And dries his moisture up;
He lives awhile, but bears no fruit,
Then dies without a hope.


But happy he whose hopes depend
Upon the Lord alone;
The soul that trusts in such a friend,
Can ne'er be overthrown.


Though gourds should wither, cisterns break,
And creature-comforts die;
No change his solid hope can shake,
Or stop his sure supply.


So thrives and blooms the tree whose roots
By constant streams are fed;
Arrayed in green, and rich in fruits,
It rears its branching head.


It thrives, though rain should be denied,
And drought around prevail;
'Tis planted by a river's side
Whose waters cannot fail.

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LYRICS
Meter: 8 6 8 6 (C.M.)
Writer(s):
    Trans/Adapted:
      Dates: 1779
      Bible Refs: Jer 17:5-8;
      LIST OF LYRIC SOURCES
      Hymn/Song Book Year Song #
      1851# 288
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