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

O God the Heathen us invade,
Thine heritage a prey is made.
Thy Holy Temple they defile,
And Salem make their ruins pile.
The bodies of thy servants ly,
To gorge the fowles through heav'n that fly,
The carkasses of Saints are feasts,
To glut and feed devouring beasts:

Their bloud like water hath been shed,
And none would see them buryed.
We are become our neighbours flowt,
Reproach'd and laugh'd at round about:
How long Lord shall thy jealous ire,
Consume us like unquenched fire?
Let thy fierce anger those devoure,
Who neither feare thy Name, or pow'r.

Let those at length thy judgments tast,
Whose furious rage lay'd Iacob wast.
Remember not our former sin,
Nor how rebellious we have bin:

148

Let speedy mercies us prevent,
Who languish through thy punishment:
Save us O God, for thy great Name,
Forgive our sins, remove our shame.

Why should in scorne the Heathen say,
Where is the God whom we obay?
O let the value of our blood,
In thy revenge be understood!
And let the pris'ners groanes, and sighes,
Up to thy throne of mercy rise!
Deliver those are mark't to dy,
By their blood-thirsting cruelty.

Let seven-fold vengeance them reward,
Who nor thy Church, nor thee regard:
And may those tongues which thee blasphemy
Become themselvs reproaches theme.
So we thy People, and the sheep,
Which thine own Fold & Pastures keep
Wil thank thy goodnes all our daies,
And to succession sing thy praise.

University of Virginia Library

Psal. LXXIX.