1 Preserve me, Lord, from crafty Foes
of treacherous Intent;
2 And from the Sons of Violence,
on open Mischief bent.
3 Their sland'ring Tongues the Serpent's Sting
in sharpness does exceed:
Between their Lips the Gall of Asps
and Adders Venom breed.
4 Preserve me, Lord, from wicked Hands,
nor leave my Soul forlorn,
A Prey to Sons of Violence,
who have my Ruin sworn.
5 The proud for me have laid their Snare,
and spread their wily Net;
With Traps and Gins wheree'er I move,
I find my Steps beset.
6 But thus environ'd with Distress,
Thou art my God I said;
Lord, hear my supplicating Voice,
that calls to Thee for Aid.
7 O Lord, the God whose saving Strength
kind Succour did convey,
And cover'd my advent'rous Head
in Battle's doubtful Day;
8 Permit not their unjust Designs
to answer their Desire;
Lest they, encourag'd by Success,
to bolder Crimes aspire.
9 Let first their Chiefs the sad Effects
of their Injustice mourn;
The Blast of their envenom'd Breath,
upon themselves return.
10 Let them who kindled first the Flame,
its Sacrifice become;
The Pit they digg'd for me, be made
their own untimely Tomb.
11 Tho' Slander's Breath may raise a Storm,
it quickly will decay;
Their Rage does but the Torrent swell,
that bears themselves away.
12 God will assert the poor Man's Cause,
and speedy Succour give;
The Just shall celebrate his Praise,
and in his Presence live.