For your secret sin you watched your brothers die,
Anxious to protect a hidden treasure.
See what folly leads to such a silent lie:
Where could you enjoy its stolen pleasure?

Buried in your tent is gold you could not spend,
Gold that is the blood price of your neighbors--
Crying out against you for the matter's end,
Public payment for your private labors.

Mercifully God has brought your deeds to light,
Graciously He strips you of your cover.
Come, my son, confessing that the Lord is right;
Own today your failing as a lover.

Give to God these petty things you cheated for,
Praising Him for treasures disregarded.
By His grace become again the blessed poor,
Scheming and all selfish hopes discarded.

Then behold the mercy of a righteous God,
Treating ev'ry ill that wants addressing.
Praise Him that He is too good to spare the rod:
Even this will prove to you a blessing.

Joshua 7