Psalm 123

Thou mover of the rolling Spheares,
I through the Glasses of my Teares,
To Thee my Eies erect.
As Servants marke their Masters hands:
As Maids their Mistresses commands,
And liberty expect:

So we, deprest by enemies,
And growing troubles, fixe our Eies
On God, who sits on High:
Till he in mercy shall descend
To give our miseries an end,
And turne our teares to joy.

O save us, Lord, by all forlorne;
The subject of contempt, and scorne.
Defend us from their pride,
Who live in fluency and ease;
Who with our woes their malice please,
And miseries deride.