From my Youth up, may Israel say (Tate and Brady)

1 From my youth up, may Isr'el say,
They oft have me assail'd,
Reduc'd me oft to heavy straits,
But never quite previl'd.

2 They oft have plough'd my patient back
With furrows deep and long;
But our just God has broke the chains,
And recu'd us from wrong.

3 Defeat, confusion, shameful rout,
Be still the doom of those,
Their righteous doom, who Sion hate,
And Sion's God oppose.

4 Like corn upon our houses tops,
Untimely let them fade,
Which too much heat, and want of root,
Has blasted in the blade,

5 Which in his arms no reaper takes,
But unregarded leaves;
Nor binder thinks it worth his pains
To fold it into sheaves.

6 No traveller that passes by,
Vouchsafes a minute's stop,
To give it one kind look, or crave
Heav'n's blessing on the crop.

Source: The Psalms of David: with hymns and spiritual songs: also, the catechism, confession of faith, and liturgy of the Reformed Church in the Netherlands #129