1 O Mighty God, preserve thou me,
For upon thee I rest:
2 Thou art my Lord, unto my Lord,
My souls thou hast profess'd.
My goodness reacheth not to thee,
3 But to the saints on earth:
And to them that are excellent,
In whom is all my mirth.
4 Who to strange gods do hasten gifts,
Their grief shall multiply;
Their blood-drink offerings I'll not pour,
Their names my lips shall fly.
5 Jehovah is the portion
Of mine inheritance;
So is he likewise of my cup;
Thou dost maintain my chance.
6 The lines that fall'n are unto me,
In pleasant places are:
Yea, goodly is the heritage
That falleth to my share.
7 I will Jehovah humbly bless,
Who counsels me aright:
My reins also do me instruct
In seasons of the night.
8 Before me I the Lord have set
As present evermore:
Because he is at my right hand
I shall not slide therefore.
9 Therefore my heart rejoyceth much,
My glory's glad withal;
Moreover also dwell in hope
My flesh securely shall.
10 Because thou wilt not leave my soul
In death's estate to be:
Nor suffer wilt thy holy one
Corruption for to see.
11 Thou wilt me shew the pat of life:
Fulness of joys before
The presence, and at thy right hand
Are pleasures evermore.
|First Line:||O Mighty God, preserve thou me|
|Title:||Mictam, or a golden Psalm of David|