O God, thou art my righteousness,
Lord, hear me when I call:
Thou hast set me at liberty,
When I was bound in thrall:
Have mercy, Lord, therefore on me,
And grant me my request;
For unto thee incessantly
To cry I will not rest.
O mortal men, how long will ye
My glory thus despise?
Why wander ye in vanity,
And follow after lies?
Know ye that good and godly men
The Lord doth take and chuse;
And when to him I make complaint,
He doth me not refuse.
Sin not, but stand in awe therefore,
Examine well your heart;
And in your chamber quietly
See ye yourselves convert.
Offer to God the sacrifice
Of righteousness and praise;
And look that in the living Lord
Ye put your trust always.
The greater sort crave worldly goods
And riches do embrace;
But, Lord, grant us thy countenance,
Thy favour and thy grace:
For thou thereby shalt make my heart
More joyful and more glad,
Than they that of their corn and wine
Full great increase have had.
In peace therefore lie down will I,
Taking my rest and sleep;
For thou only dost me, O Lord,
Preserve and safely keep.
Metrical 'New Version' (Tate/Brady)
O Lord, that art my righteous Judge,
To my complaint give ear:
Thou still redeem'st me from distress;
Have mercy, Lord, and hear.
How long will ye, O sons of men,
To blot my fame devise?
How long your vain designs pursue,
And spread malicious lies?
Consider that the righteous man
Is God's peculiar choice;
And when to him I make my pray'r,
He always hears my voice.
Then stand in awe of his commands,
Flee ev'ry thing that's ill;
Commune in private with your hearts,
And bend them to his will.
The place of other sacrifice
Let righteousness supply;
And let your hope, securely fix'd,
On God alone rely.
While worldly minds impatient grow,
More prosp'rous times to see,
Still let the glories of thy face
Shine brightly, Lord, on me.
So shall my heart o'erflow with joy,
More lasting, and more true
Than theirs, who stores of corn and wine
Then down in peace I'll lay my head,
And take my needful rest;
No other guard, O Lord, I crave,
Of thy defence posess'd.
Defender of my rightful cause,
While anguish from my bosom draws
The deep-felt sigh, the ceaseless pray'r,
O make thy servant still thy care.
That aid, which oft my griefs has heal'd,
That aid again, intreated, yield.
How long, ye sons of pride, how long
Shall falsehood arm your impious tongue,
How long shall secret love of ill
To wretched malice urge your will,
And erring rage your breast inflame,
My pow'r to thwart, my acts defame?
To God my heart shall vent its woe,
Who, prompt his blessings to bestow
On each whose breast has learn'd his fear,
Bows to my plaint the willing ear:
Him wouldst thou please? with rev'rent awe
Observe the dictates of his law.
In secret on thy couch reclin'd
Search to its depth thy restless mind,
Till hush'd to peace the tumult lie,
And wrath and strife within thee die:
With purest gifts approach his shrine,
And safe to him thy care resign.
I hear a hopeless train demand,
"Where's now the wish'd deliv'rer's hand?"
Do thou, my God, do thou reply,
And let thy presence from on high
In full effusion o'er our head
Its all-enliv'ning influence shed.
What joy my conscious heart o'erflows!
Not such th'exulting lab'rer knows,
When to his long-expecting eyes
The vintage and the harvests rise,
And, shadowing wide the cultur'd soil,
With full requital crown his toil.
My weary eyes in sleep I close,
My limbs, secure, to rest compose;
For thou, great God, shalt screen my head,
And plant a guard around my bed:
Thy choicest gifts shalt bid me share,
And make my safety still thy care.