"For Satan always finds some mischief still for idle hands to do."
"Lord, what a thoughtless wretch was I, To mourn, and murmur and repine, To see the wicked placed on high, In pride and robes of honor shine. But oh, their end, their dreadful end, Thy sanctuary taught me so, On slipp'ry rocks I see them stand, And fiery billows roll below."
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Source: Thomas Hastings, Isaac Watts, William Patton (1836). “The Christian Psalmist: Or, Watts' Psalms and Hymns, with Copious Selections from Other Sources”, p.127
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