Psalm CIX.
1
Hold not thy peace at my complaint;
O God of all my praise:
For wicked men with open mouth
Against me slanders raise.
2
They compass me with all the words
That malice can devise:
Without the least desert of mine,
They are my enemies.
3
I pray'd for them most heartily,
But they for my good will
Have hated me; and for my love
Rewarded me with ill.
4
Leave him to Satan; and let him
At his right hand appear:
In judgment let him be condemn'd,
Nor his Petition hear.
5
Shorten his days, that so his charge
Another man may take:
His children ever fatherless,
His wife a widow make.
6
Let all his race be vagabonds,
To wander up and down:
And beg in places desolate
For bread; where there is none
7
Let the extortioner devour
The fruit of all his toil:
And what he by his labour got,
Let strangers take and spoil.
8
Let no man any mercy shew
To him, nor to his race:
That in the next succeeding age
Their names may have no place.
9
His fathers and his mothers sins,
O Lord, forget them not:
But visit them upon their seed,
Until their names shall rot.
10
Because he did no mercy shew,
But persecute the poor:
That he might slay the needy man,
Whose heart was broke before.
11
Of curses let him plenty have,
Since he did cursing love:
And as he blessing loved not,
Thy blessings, Lord, remove.
12
As he with cursing cloath'd himself,
Like water make them flow
Into his bowels, and like oil
Into his bones to go.
13
Close as his garments let them cleave,
And like his girdle be:
Thus, Lord, reward my enemies,
And those that slander me.
14
But save me for thy holy name,
Who good and gracious art;
For I am poor and desolate,
And sorrow wounds my heart.
15
I flee like shadows, and am toss'd
As locusts by the wind:
My very knees with fasting fail,
And all my flesh is pin'd.
16
I was despis'd, and all that saw,
At me their heads did shake:
Now help and save me, O my God,
For thy great mercies sake.
17
That they may know it is thy hand,
That has delivered me:
And when I am accurs'd by them,
Let me be blest by thee.
18
Confound them, Lord, but give me cause
To triumph in thy name:
As with a mantle, let them all
Be covered with shame.
19
Then I in highest strains of praise
Unto the Lord will sing:
Yea I among the multitude
Will make his praise to ring.
20
Who standeth by the innocent,
And poor to rescue them
From those that judge unrighteously,
And would their souls condemn.
