PSALM LXXIX.

Tate and Brady

2 The mangled bodies of thy saints
Abroad unburied lay;
Their flesh expos'd to savage beasts,
And rav'nous birds of prey.

3 Quite through Jerus'lem was their blood
Like common water shed;
And none were left alive to pay
Last duties to the dead.

4 The neighb'ring lands our small remains
With loud reproaches wound;
And we a laughing-stock are made
To all the nations round.

5 How long wilt thou be angry, Lord?
Must we for ever mourn?
Shall thy devouring jealous rage,
Like fire, for ever burn?

6 On foreign lands, that know not thee,
Thy heavy vengeance show'r;
Those sinful kingdoms let it crush,
That have not own'd thy pow'r.

7 For their devouring jaws have prey'd
On Jacob's chosen race;
And to a barren desert turn'd
Their fruitful dwelling-place.

8 O think not on our former sins,
But speedily prevent
The utter ruin of thy saints,
Almost with sorrow spent.

9 Thou God of our salvation, help,
And free our souls from blame;
So shall our pardon and defence
Exalt thy glorious Name.

10 Let infidels, that scoffing say,
Where is the God they boast?
In vengeance for thy slaughter'd saints,
Perceive thee to their cost.

11 Lord, hear the sighing pris'ner's moan,
Thy saving pow'r extend;
Preserve the wretches, doom'd to die,
From that untimely end.

12 On them who us oppress let all
Our suff'rings be repaid;
Make their confusion seven times more
Than what on us they laid.

13 So we, thy people and thy flock,
Shall ever praise thy Name;
And with glad hearts our grateful thanks
From age to age proclaim.