1 Blessed is he that carefully
considereth the poor;
the Lord in time of trouble him
deliverance will secure.
2 He will him keep, yea save alive;
on earth he blessed shall live,
and to his enemies' desire
thou wilt him never give.
3 The Lord will strengthen when on bed
of weakness he doth mourn;
and in his sickness sore, O Lord,
thou all his bed wilt turn.
4 I said, O Lord, do thou extend
thy mercy unto me;
O do thou heal my soul, because
I have offended thee.
5 Those that to me are enemies
of me do evil say,
when shall he die, that so his name
may perish quite away?
6 To see me if he comes, he speaks
vain words; but then his heart
doth gather mischief, which he tells,
when forth he doth depart.
7 My haters jointly whispering
against me hurt devise;
8 mischief, say they, cleaves fast to him;
he lies and shall not rise.
9 Yea, even mine own familiar friend,
on whom I did rely,
who ate my bread, even he his heel
against me lifted high.
10 But, Lord, be merciful to me,
and up again me raise,
that I may justly them requite
according to their ways.
11 By this I know that certainly
I favoured am by thee;
because my hateful enemy
doth not exult o'er me.
12 But as for me, thou me uphold'st
in mine integrity;
and me before thy countenance
thou sett'st continually.
13 The Lord, the God of Israel,
be blest for ever then,
from age to age eternally
Amen, yea, and amen.
Source: The Irish Presbyterian Hymnbook #P41