Happy who in God's fear doth stay,
And in it goeth on his way;
Thine own hand thee shall find thy food,
So liv'st thou right, and all is good.
So shall thy wife be, in thy house,
Like vine with clusters plenteous,
Thy children sit thy table round
Like olive plants all fresh and sound.
See, such rich blessing hangs him on
Whom God's fear maketh live a man;
From him the old curse away is worn
To which the sons of men are born.
From Zion God will prosper thee;
Thou shalt behold continually
Jerusalem's now happy case
So pleasing to the God of grace.
He will thy days prolong for thee,
With goodness ever nigh thee be
That thou with thy sons' sons may'st dwell,
And there be peace in Israel.