1 He's bless'd whose tender care,
Relieves the poor distress'd;
When troubles gather round,
The Lord shall give him rest;
2 His life with blessings crown'd,
The Lord shall sure prolong;
And check the will of those,
Who seek to do him wrong.
3 If he, in low estate,
Oppress'd with sickness lie,
The Lord will comfort send,
And inward strength supply:
4 Secure of this, to God,
I thus my pray'r address'd,
"Lord, heal my wounded soul,
"For I have much trasgress'd!"
5 My foes, with sland'ring words,
Attempt to wound my fame;
"When shall he die," say they,
"And men forget his name?"
6 Suppose they visits make
'Tis all but empty show;
They gather mischief then,
And vent it when they go.
7 With whispers such as these,
To hurt me they devise:
"His doom a length is come,
"He's fall'n, no more to rise."
8 My own familiar friend,
On whom I most rely'd,
Has me, whose guest he was,
With open scorn defy'd.
9 But thou, my wretched state,
In nercy, Lord regard,
And raise me up, that they
May meet their just reward.
10 Thou suffer'st not my foes,
To triumph in my fall;
Therefore I know thine ear,
Is open when I call.
11 My life thou dost secure,
From danger and disgrace;
And thou shalt set me still,
Before thy glorious face:
12 Let therefore Israel's Lord
From age to age be blest,
And all the people's joy
With loud amens exprest.
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 #41