Cursed is the one who trusts in man, Who leans on him for might. He turns away from God the Lord; His heart rejects what???s right. He???s like a bush out in the waste; Good times will pass him by. His place is parched and desolate, With none to hear his cry. But blessed the man who trusts the Lord; God is his hope and stay. He???s like a tree beside a stream; Its roots drink deep each day. It never fears in summertime; Its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a drought; Its fruit is always seen. Lord, may I never in mankind Place confidence or hope. A fruitless, barren state that brings, With none to help me cope. But may I always trust in You; Your Word will quench my thirst. You???ll give me strength for every trial; I???ll always put You first.