1 How num'rous, Lord, how strong, how powerful they,
Who rise against me, and my soul dismay?
2 Vain, empty boasters! In their guilt they're proud,
And, that my God disdains me, vaunt aloud.
3 But me thro' dangers hast thou safely led,
And crown'd with glory and success my head;
4 On thee I call'd in confidence of pray'r,
And from thy sacred hill thou deign'dst to hear.
5 At Night I laid me down, and slept secure;
At Morn I rose, supported by thy pow'r.
6 Why then, tho' thousands threat me, shou'd I fear?
My shield thy goodness, I defy the spear.
7 Rise, Lord, assist me--save me from my Foes;
Long has thy dreadful wrath against them rose;
My only Foes the abandon'd wicked are,
And oft th' inflictions of thy hand they bear:
8 While all thy blessings righteous souls attend,
And them thou'lt save, who in thy temple bend.