Psalm III

Lord, how are they increas'd
That are mine enemies,
Many there be that trouble me,
And do against me rise.

Many say of my soul,
He hath no help in God;

But thou my shield and glory art,
And liftest up my head.

I with my mournful voice
Unto the Lord did cry,
And he out of his holy place
Did hear me graciously.

I laid me down and slept;
I wak'd and rose again,
For it is God in whom I trust
That doth me still sustain.

And though ten thousand foes
Were round about me laid,
(While God is for me, and my help)
Why should I be afraid.

Arise and save me, Lord,
My God the Cheek-bone strake
Of all my foes; and wicked mens
Devouring teeth did break.

To save his chosen doth
Belong to God alone;
Thy blessing shall for evermore
Thy people rest upon.