Psalm 120

Distrest, and in my minde dismay'd,
When destitute of humane aid,
To Thee successefully I prai'd.

Lord, shield me from the Fraudulent;
From those that are on malice bent;
Who envious Calumnies invent.

O thou false tongue, steep't in the gall
Of Serpents! what reward, for all
Thy mischiefe, shall to thee befall!

Like Arrowes shot from Parthian strings,
Fir'd Juniper, and Scorpions stings;
Such art thou, ô thou worst of things!

Wo's me, that I from Israel
Exiled, must in Mesech dwell;
And in the Tents of Ismael!

O how long shall I live with those,
Whose savage minds sweet Peace oppose;
Where Fury by disswasion growes: