1 How many, Lord, of late are grown
the Troublers of my Peace!
And as their Numbers hourly rise,
so does their Rage increase.
2 Insulting, they my Soul upbraid,
and him whom I adore:
The God in whom he trusts, say they,
shall rescue him no more.
3 But thou, O Lord, art my Defence;
on thee my Hopes rely:
Thou art my Glory, and shalt yet,
lift up my Head on high.
4 Since whensoe'er in like Distres,
to God I made my Prayer,
He heard me from his holy Hill;
Why should I now despair?
5 Guarded by him, I laid me down,
my sweet Repose to take;
For I through him securely sleep,
through him in Safety wake.
6 No Force nor Fury of my Foes,
my Courage shall confound;
Were there as many Hosts as Men,
that have beset me round.
7 Arise, and save me, O my God,
who oft hast own'd my Cause;
And scatter'd oft these Foes to me,
and to thy righteous Laws.
8 Salvation to the Lord belongs;
He only can defend;
His Blessing he extends to all,
that on his Pow'r depend.