My God, at early dawn to thee I'll cry

1 My God, at early dawn to thee I'll cry;
My soul's athirst thy presence to enjoy;
My weak, my languid system thee demands,
As ask refreshing showers the parched lands:
2 Thy pow'r, thy radiant glory to behold,
Which in thy house thou wontest to unfold.
3 For sweeter far than length of days to me,
Is thy ador'd, thy blest benignity.
4 Thee will I praise, while lasts this vital frame;
My grateful tongue shall eccho forth thy name.
5 Great the relief I from thy praise receive;
Not choicest cates such sweet refreshment give.
6 At night I make thy tender love my song;
At morn thy mercies tune my raptur'd tongue.
7 For thou support'st me ever with thy pow'r;
Beneath thy shelt'ring wings I rest secure.
8 Thou art my soul's desire, my heart's best love;
Thy strong right-hand upholds me, as I move:
9 While they, who seek my ruin strait shall go
Down to the dismal, dreary shades below;
10 Soon shall they perish by the fatal sword,
Their lifeless limbs by rav'ning wolves devour'd.
11 But the glad king, and who their God revere,
Shall glory in the name by which they swear;
Shall boast the mighty Lord that they adore,
While fools in silence shall their guilt deplore.

Source: New Version of the Psalms of David #LXIII