Psalm 3 (Tate & Brady)

1 How num'rous, Lord, of late are grown

the troublers of my peace!

And, as their numbers hourly rise,

so does their rage increase.

2 Insulting they my soul upbraid,

and him whom I adore;

The God in whom he trusts, say they,

shall rescue him no more.

3 But thou, O Lord, art my defense;

on thee my hopes rely;

Thou art my glory, and shalt yet

lift up my head on high.

4 Since whensoe'er in like distress

to God I made my pray'r,

He heard me from his holy hill,

why should I now despair?

5 Guarded by him, I laid me down

my sweet repose to take;

For I through him securely sleep,

through him in safety wake.

6 No force nor fury of my foes

my courage shall confound,

Were they as many hosts as men

that have beset me round.

7 Arise and save me, O my God,

who oft hast owned my cause,

And scattered oft these foes to me,

and to thy righteous laws.

8 Salvation to the Lord belongs,

he only can defend;

His blessing he extends to all

that on his pow'r depend.