1 O Lord, my Rock, to Thee I cry,
in Sighs consume my Breath.
O! answer; or I shall become
like those that sleep in Death.
2 Regard my Supplication, Lord,
the Cries that I repeat,
With weeping Eyes, and lifted Hands,
before thy Mercy-seat.
3 Let me escape the Sinners Doom,
who make a trade of Ill;
And ever speak the Person fair,
whose Blood they mean to spill.
4 According to their Crimes Extent,
let Justice have its Course:
Relentless be to them, as they
have sinn'd without Remorse.
5 Since they the Works of God despise,
nor will His Grace adore;
His Wrath shall utterly destroy,
and build them up no more.
6 But I, with due Acknowlegement,
his Praises will resound,
From whom the Cries of my Distress
a gracious Answer found.
7 My Heart its Confidence repos'd
in God my Strength and Shield?
In Him I trusted, and return'd
triumphant from the Field:
As He has made my Joys complete,
'tis just that i should raise
The chearful Tribute of my Thanks,
and thus resound his Praise:
8 "His aiding Pow'r supports the Troops
"that my just Cause maintain:
"'Twas He advanc'd me to the Throne,
"'tis He secures my Reign."
9 Preserve thy Chosen, and proceed
thine Heritage to bless:
With Plenty prosper them, in Peace;
in Battle, with Success.