Psalm 3

LOrd, how their number multiplies,
That vex and grieve me sore!
Yea, they that do against me rise,
Wax hourly more and more.
There's many of my soul do say,
His God no help shall yield,
Nor bring him succour any way:
But Lord, thou art my shield.
Thou art th' uplifter of my Head,
My glory and my pride:
My voice to God I uttered,
Unto the Lord I cry'd,
He heard me from his holy Hill:
I laid me down and slept,
And wak't again in safety still,
By him sustain'd and kept.
Although ten thousand of my foes
Beset me round about,
I will not be affraid of those,
Nor of my safety doubt.
O Lord my God awake, arise,
Defend my righteous Cause;
For thou hast smote mine enemies
Upon the very jawes.
Break thou the teeth of all the throng
That work ungodlinesse:
Salvation doth to God belong;
Thou dost thy people blesse.