Psalm 62

MY soul indeed on God is stay'd,
He is my Saviour prov'd:
My onely rock, defence, and ayd,
I shall not much be mov'd.
How long will ye have lewd pretence?
Ye shall be slaughtered all:
Ye shall be like a tott'ring fence,
And like a bowing wall.
'Tis all your aim, and all your art,
His exc'lence to despise:
Ye bless with mouth, ye curse in heart,
And take delight in lies.
My soul wait thou on God alone,
My expectation's thence:
He onely is my rock of stone,
Salvation and defence.
I shall not therefore much be mov'd,
My God's my health and praise:
My rock of strength and refuge prov'd,
On whom my spirit stayes.
At all times trust in him alone,
Ye Saints with one accord:
Powre out your heart before his throne,
Our refuge is the Lord.
All sorts of men are vanitie,
They whose condition's base,
And they no better then a lie,
That are of higher place.
In balance lai'd are found more light,
Then vanitie it self:
O trust not in oppressing might,
Become not vain in stealth.
Though wealth increase not got amiss,
Set not your heart on gains:
God spake it once, twice heard I this,
That pow'r to God pertains.
And unto thee ô LORD alone,
Compassion doth belong:
Thou renderest to every one
Reward of right or wrong.