Classic Poem

When God, provok'd with daring crimes,
Scourges the madness of the times,
He turns their fields to barren sand,
And dries the rivers from the land.

His word can raise the springs again,
Can make the wither'd mountains green,
Send show'ry blessings from the skies,
Make harvests in the desert rise.

Where nothing dwelt but beasts of prey,
Or men as fierce and wild as they;
He bids th' oppress'd and poor repair,
And builds them towns and cities there.

They sow the fields, and trees they plant,
Whose yearly fruit, supplies their want;
Their race grows up from fruitful stocks,
Their wealth increases with their flocks.

The righteous, with a joyful sense,
Admire the works of Providence;
And tongues of atheists shall no more
Blaspheme the God whom saints adore.

How few, with pious care, record
These wondrous dealings of the Lord!
But wise observers still shall find,
The Lord is holy, just, and kind.