Psalm 17 (Version 1)

Arise, my gracious God,

And make the wicked flee;

They are but thy chastising rod

To drive thy saints to thee.

Behold the sinner dies,

His haughty words are vain;

Here in this life his pleasure lies,

And all beyond is pain.

Then let his pride advance,

And boast of all his store:

The Lord is my inheritance,

My soul can wish no more.

I shall behold the face

Of my forgiving God,

And stand complete in righteousness,

Wash'd in my Saviour's blood.

There's a new heaven begun,

When I awake from death,

Drest in the likeness of thy Son,

And draw immortal breath.