PSALM LVI.

Tate and Brady

2 Continually my spiteful foes
To ruin me combine;
Thou seest, who sitt'st enthron'd on high,
What mighty numbers join.

3 But though sometimes surpris'd by fear,
On danger's first alarm,
Yet still for succour I depend
On thy Almighty arm.

4 God's faithful promise I shall praise,
On which I now rely:
In God I trust, and, trusting him,
The arm of flesh defy.

5 They wrest my words, and make them speak
A sense they never meant:
Their thoughts are all, with restless spite,
On my destruction bent.

6 In close assemblies they combine,
And wicked projects lay;
They watch my steps, and lie in wait
To make my soul their prey.

7 Shall such injustice still escape?
O righteous God, arise;
Let thy just wrath, (too long provok'd,)
This impious race chastise.

8 Thou number'st all my steps, since first
I was compell'd to flee;
My very tears are treasur'd up,
And register'd by thee.

9 When therefore I invoke thy aid,
My foes shall be o'erthrown;
For I am well assur'd that God
My righteous cause will own.

10, 11 I'll trust God's word, and so despise
The force that man can raise;
12 To thee, O God, my vows are due;
To thee I'll render praise.

13 Thou hast retriev'd my soul from death,
And thou wilt still secure
The life thou hast so oft preserv'd,
And make my footsteps sure;

That thus protected by thy pow'r,
I may this light enjoy,
And in the service of my God
My lengthen'd days employ.