Psalm 55

O God unto my prayer give ear,
Hide not thy face from me:
My supplications daign to hear,
Attending what they be.
In my complaint I cry aloud,
A mournfull noise I make:
Because the adversary proud
So insolently spake.
Because of lewd mens tyrannie,
Wherewith I am opprest:
Who charge me with iniquitie,
And me in wrath detest.
Sore pained is my heart in me,
Deaths terrors on me fall:
Trembling and fear accompanie,
They come upon me all.
And horrour hath o'rewhelm'd me quite:
Oh that I had Doves wings,
That I might take to sudden flight,
And rest from these sad things.
Then would I wander wide and stay
Ith' Wilderness behinde:
I'd hasten my escape away,
From tempest, storm, and winde.

2. Part.
DEstroy ô Lord, divide their tongues,
For I have seen how rife,
And how the bloudy Citie throngs
With violence and strife.
Both night and day they do surround
The very walls of it:
Mischief and sorrow there are found,
Amidst the same to sit.
In midst thereof is lewdness vile,
That with the mischief meets:
Most base deceit and crafty guile,
Depart not from her streets.
For had a foe these taunts began,
I could the same have born:
Or had my hater been the man,
Who 'gainst me lift his horn,
Then I from him my head would hide:
But it was thou a man;
Yea mine acquaintance, equall guide,
This tragedy began.
We did consult with sweet content,
In most familiar kind:
And to the house of God we went
In unitie combin'd.

3. Part.
LEt death seize on them speedily,
And send them quick to hell:
For there is all iniquitie,
Among them where they dwell.
But as for me on God I'l call,
Defended by his might:
I'l pray, and cry aloud withall,
At morning, noon, and night.
The LORD shall hear me when I pray,
For he preserv'd me whole,
From battell marshal'd in aray,
And bent against my soul.
For there was many a one with me,
The LORD will surely hear:
He that abides of old, even he,
And it shall cost them dear.
Since they no sudden changes see,
They fear not the most high:
He hath laid hands on such as be
With him at unitie.
He brake the Cov'nant on his part.
His words did fairly sooth:
While cruell warre possest his heart,
No butter was so smooth:
His speeches were more soft then oil,
Yet pierc't like swords drawn out:
O cast on God thy carefull toil,
He shall provide, no doubt.
The righteous to be under-trod,
He never will permit:
But thou wilt bring them down, ô God,
Into destructions pit.
To bloudy and deceitfull wayes,
Who ere addicted bee,
Shall not continue half their dayes:
But I will trust in thee.