XLIII.
1
Be Thow my judge, Lord, plead my cause;
A nation mercilesse
My pairtie is: Me from the man
Of fraud and wickedness
2
Sett free, for of my strentgh the God
Thow art; why, thrust from thee,
Why goe I mourning all the day,
My foes oppressing me?
3
O send thow out thy light and truth;
Let them direct my way,
And bring me to thine holie hill,
The places of thy stay.
4
I'le to God's altar come, (to God,
My joy and gladnes great,)
And on the harp, (O God, my God,)
Thy prayses celebrate.
5
My soule, why droop'st thow? why within
Me mov'd? For God, O stay,
My God, and countenance's health,
To him yet prayse I'le pay.
