1 Preserve me, Lord, from crafty foes
Of base and treacherous intent;
And from the sons of violence,
On strive and open mischief bent.
2 Their sland'ring tongue the serpent's sting,
Though keen, in sharpness does exceed:
Between their lips the gall of asps
And adder's mortal venom breed.
3 Preserve me, Lord, from wicked hands,
Nor leave my helpless soul forlorn,
A prey to sons of violence,
Who have my utter ruin sworn.
4 The proud for me have laid their snare,
And spread abroad their wily net;
With traps and gins, where e'er I move,
I find my dang'rous steps beset.
5 But thus, environ'd with distress,
Thou art my only God, I said;
LORD, hear my supplicating voice,
That calls to thee for aid.
6 O LORD, the GOD, whose saving strength,
Kind succour did to me convey;
And cover'd my advent'rous head,
In the fierce battle's doubtful day.
7 Permit not their unjust designs
To answer their base heart's desire;
Lest they, encourag'd by success,
Should yet to bolder crimes aspire.
8 First shall their chiefs the sad effects
Of their unjust oppression mourn;
The blast of their envenom'd breath,
Thou wilt upon themselves return.
9 They too, who kindled first the flame,
Shall first it's sacrifice become;
The pit which they design'd for me,
Be made their own untimely tomb.
10 Though sland'rer's breath may raise a storm,
That fleeting breath will quick decay;
Their rage does but the torrent swell,
That bears themselves by force away.
11 GOD will assert the poor man's cause,
And speedy help and succour give;
The just shall celebrate his praise,
And in his presence ever live.
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