Psalm 28

My God, my Rocke, regard my Crie;
Lest I unheard, like those that die,
In shades of darke Oblivion lie.

To my ascending Griefe give eare,
When I my hands devoutly reare
Before thy Mercie-seat with feare.

With wicked men mix not my Fate;
Nor drag me with the Reprobate,
Who speake of Peace, but foster hate.

Such as their workes, their dire intent,
And practices to circumvent;
Such be their dreadfull punishment.

Since they will not thy Choice renowne,
But hate whom thou intend'st to crowne;
O build not up, but pull them downe!

He heares! his Name be magnifi'd!
My Strength, secur'd on everie side,
Since all my hope on him rely'd.

These Seas of Joy my teares devoure.
My Songs shall celebrate thy Power,
O thou that art to thine a Tower.

O thou my strong Deliverance,
Thy People, thine Inheritance,
Blesse, feed, preserve, and still advance.