The Psalmes of David, from the New Translation of the Bible Turned into Meter ::

God of my praise! nor silent be,
Nor unattentive unto me.
For wicked mouths me falsely wrong,
And wound me with their lying tongue.
They compass me with words of hate,
And causeless vex me with debate.
For all my friendship they are foes:
But I my grief in pray'r disclose.

My good with evill they requite,
And my affection pay with spight.
Let wicked rulers him command,
And Satan stand at his right hand,

211

Let him, when judg'd, receive his doome,
And let his pray'r, his sin become.
His daies both few, and irksome make,
His office let another take.

May fatherless his children live;
His wife forlorne, a widow grieve:
Like vagrants let them want their bread;
And, where they beg it, not be fed.
Let him be made extortions spoyle,
And strangers reap his harvests toyle.
None him their pitties object make,
Nor on his seed compassion take.

His name from earth, and Off-spring blot,
In the succeeding age forgot.
And ever let the Lord retaine
His Fathers sin, and Mothers staine.
Still let them stand before His ey,
To cut from earth his memory:
Who merciless the poor pursu'd,
And wounds of broken hearts renew'd.

Feele he those curses which he lou'd;
All blessings be from him remov'd.
As curses cloath'd him round about,
So seize they him, within, without;
Like water through his bowels flow'd,
Or oyle into his bones bestow'd:

212

So let them cloath, and gird him fast,
Returning on himself at last.

Thus let the Lord reward my foes,
Who to reproach my soul expose.
But for the mercies of Thy Name,
Deliver me (O Lord) from shame.
For I am poor, and prest with need;
My wounded heart doth inward bleed.
I like the falling shadow go;
As puffs of wind the Locusts throw.

My feeble knee through fasting failes,
And faintnes ore my flesh prevailes:
I am their scorne and laughter bred,
They looking on me shake their head.
Help me (O Lord!) who mercy crave;
That they may know, thy hand can save,
Bless when they curse; their pride confoūd,
But let me live with gladnes crown'd.

Lord! let my shamed enemy
In sharp confusion cloathed ly.
So shall Thy praises with my tongue
Be in the full assembly sung.
For God will at the poor's right hand,
By His protection, ready stand;
To save his innocence from them,
Who wrongfully his soul condemne.

University of Virginia Library

Psal. CIX.