1 O Lord, my rock, to thee I cry,
in sighs consume my breath;
O answer, or I shall become
like those that sleep in death.
2 Regard my supplication, Lord,
the cries that I repeat,
With weeping eyes and lifted hands
before thy mercy seat.
3 Let me escape the sinners' doom,
who make a trade of ill;
And ever speak the person fair,
whose blood they mean to spill.
4 According to their crimes' extent
let justice have its course:
Relentless be to them as they
have sinned without remorse.
5 Since they the works of God despise,
nor will his grace adore;
His wrath shall utterly destroy,
and build them up no more.
6 But I, with due acknowledgment,
his praises will resound,
From whom the cries of my distress
a gracious answer found.
7 My heart its confidence reposed
in God, my strength and shield;
In him I trusted, and returned
triumphant from the field.
As he hath made my joys complete,
'tis just that I should raise
The cheerful tribute of my thanks,
and thus resound his praise.
8 "His aiding pow'r supports the troops
that my just cause maintain:
T'was he advanced me to the throne,
'tis he secures my reign."
9 Preserve thy chosen, and proceed
thine heritage to bless;
With plenty prosper them in peace;
in battle with success.