I. O Lord, in mercy cast an Eye
On thy distressed SION;
How few of Christians canst thou spy
That 'scape th' infernal Lion?
Thy Truth was never more despis'd;
Faith, Charity is but disguis'd
Amongst its mere Professors.
II. They teach but Lies and Flattery,
What is their own Invention;
Their Doctrine is but Mockery
Of God and his Intention:
One chuses this, another that,
Pretending to they know not what,
Thought Saint-like in Appearance.
III. Root out all mere Formality,
O Lord! and its Infection,
Confound refin'd Hyporcrisy,
Which is beyond Correction.
Yet shall our words be free, thy cry:
Where is the Lord will ask us why?
who dares controul our Sayings?
IV. The Lord, who sees the Poor opprest,
And hears the proud Professors,
Will rise to give his Children Rest,
And curb their sore Oppressors;
Nor will he send his Word in vain,
But wilful Mockers shall be slain,
to save his poor Beloved.
V. As Silver sev'n Times purify'd
Shines in its greatest Beauty;
So, Lord, thy word, the oftner try'd,
Exerts the greater Duty;
Affliction shall refine it more,
And shew its Energy and Pow'r
According to thy Promise.
VI. O Lord, we pray, preserve it pure
In this our Generation,
And let us dwell in Thee secure
From all Abomination.
For Sin increases ev'ry Day,
In ev'ry Place where bear the Sway
The Church of CHRIST'S Blasphemers.
Source: Psalmodia Germanica: or, The German Psalmody: translated from the high Dutch together with their proper tunes and thorough bass (2nd ed., corr. and enl.) #165