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How great are Your works Lord, Your thoughts are very deep; Faithful love is adored, A shepherd for His sheep. The dumb man cannot know, Fools do not understand; About what is below, And the future at hand. Though the wicked may sprout, Evildoers flourish; Destruction that they doubt, They are doomed to perish. Lord on high forever, For behold all your foes; Think that they are clever, Causing terror and woes. But evil shall scatter, Enemies shall perish; You silence their chatter, They lose all they cherish. Like the horn of a bull, You laud me with oil; And made my harvest full, That has made less toil. My eyes have seen their fall, My ears have heard their doom; As my enemies call, Since hell is dark and gloom. For the righteous flourish, Like palms in the desert; It is You they cherish, Because feeling comfort. Tall cedars made the house, Which are planted by You; As prepared for your spouse, To flourish and pursue. They still are bearing fruit, Full of sap and so green; Bedded in rock the root, As strong as ever been. Copyright © 2019 Richard Newton Sherrer Vote for this poem
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