Psalm 12

Helpe Lord, for Godly men decay;
From Mortalls Faith, enforced, flies:
And with their sins Companions they,
Talke of affected Vanities:
Their flattering Tongues abound with Lies;
Their double Hearts bent to betray.

God shall those flattering Lips confound,
And Tongues which swell with proud Disdaine:
Whose boastings arrogantly sound;
Our Tongues the conquest shall obtaine;
They are our owne, who shall restraine?
Or to our Wills prescribe a bound?

But forth' Oppression of the Poore,
And Wretches sighes which pierce the Skies,
Who pitie at his Throne implore,
The Lord hath said, I will arise,
And from their Foes, who them despise,
Deliver all that me adore.

Gods Word is pure; as pure as Gold
In melting Furnace seven times try'd:
His Armes for ever shall infold
All those, who in his truth abide.
The wicked range on every side,
When vitious men the Scepter hold.