English text
Lord, hear the voice of my complaint,
To my request give ear;
Preserve my life from cruel foes,
And free my soul from fear.
O hide me with thy tend'rest care
In some secure retreat,
From sinners that against me rise,
And all their plots defeat.
See how, intent to work my harm,
They whet their tongues like swords;
And bend their bows to shoot their darts,
Sharp lies and bitter words.
Lurking in private, at the just
They take their secret aim;
And suddenly at him they shoot,
Quite void of fear and shame.
To carry on their ill designs
They mutually agree;
They speak of laying private snares,
And think that none shall see.
With utmost diligence and care
Their wicked plots they lay;
The deep designs of all their hearts
Are only to betray.
But God, to anger justly moved,
His dreadful bow shall bend,
And on his flying arrow's point
Shall swift destruction send.
Those slanders, which their mouths did vent,
Upon themselves shall fall;
Their crimes, disclosed, shall make them be
Despised and shunned by all.
The world shall then God's pow'r confess,
And nations trembling stand,
Convinced that 'tis the mighty work
Of his avenging hand.
Whilst righteous men, whom God secures,
In him shall gladly trust;
And all the listening earth shall hear
Loud triumphs of the just.
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English text
Thy suppliant's voice propitious hear;
My life, blest Lord, from hostile fear
Secure, while men of impious mind,
Their powers in secret league combined,
With factious rage my soul pursue,
And hide, O hide me from their view.
Behold the slaughter-breathing throng,
Whet as a sword their baleful tongue,
And words, as arrows keen, prepare,
That edged with death shall walk the air,
Concealed from sight each fear disclaim,
And level at the just their aim,
Nor rest, till in the blameless heart
Their hand has lodged the sudden dart.
Their dire designs, in guilt allied,
They form; secure, their snares provide;
"And who our aim shall thwart? What eye
"(They ask,) the hidden death descry?"
With future mischiefs teem their breasts,
(As each to each new wiles suggests,)
And seek in art's obscures veil
Their guilty purpose to conceal.
Ah! wretches, whither will ye fly?
Behold the arrow from on high
Descend, that bears upon its wing,
The wrath of heaven's offended King:
The fatal shaft its errand knows,
And red with hottest vengeance glows.
Their tongue, that seeks another's hurt,
Itself their footsteps shall subvert,
And passers by with inward dread
Behold them on the earth outspread.
Each heart shall own, with reverent thought,
That Thou the work, great God, hast wrought,
And, pleased, thy chastisements shall trace:
Inflicted on their guilty race,
While, rescued from their rage, the just,
Exulting, fix on Thee their trust.
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English text
O Lord, to our request give ear,
And free our souls from hostile fear ;
For crafty men, of impious mind,
Their powers in secret league combined:
With factious rage their plots devise,
And vent their malice, mixed with lies.
Behold the slaughter-breathing throng,
Whet like a sword their threatening tongue
And bend their bows, to shoot their darts,
Against the men of upright hearts,
In works of mischief they agree,
And vainly think that none shall see.
But, wretches, whither will ye fly?
Behold the arrow from on high!
Descends, and bears, upon its wing,
The wrath of heaven's offended king!
Your slanders on yourselves shall fall,
Hated, despised and shunned by all.
The world shall then God's power confess,
His wisdom, love and righteousness ;
And men shall see, with reverend thought,
The wonders that his hand hath wrought,
While all shall own his dealings just,
The righteous in his name shall trust.
- Portions of Belknap's paraphrase taken from those of Tate & Brady and Merrick, which Belknap carefully cite.
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