Psalm 31

Who trusts in Thee, ô let not shame deject!
Thou ever Just, my chased Soule secure:
Lord, lend a willing eare, with speed protect;
Bee thou my Rocke; with thy strong Arme immure.

My Rocke, my Fortresse, for thy Honour aid,
And my ingaged feet from Danger guide:
Pull from their subtill Snares in secret laid,
O thou my onely Strength so often try'd.

To thy safe Hands my Spirit I commend,
O my Redeemer, O thou God of Truth.
Who Lies invent, or unto Idols bend,
I have abhorr'd, but lov'd Thee from my Youth.

I will rejoyce, and in thy Mercie boast,
That in his trouble wouldst thy Servant know:
Deliver, when in expectation lost;
Nor yeeld him to the Triumph of his Foe.

Now helpe the Comfortlesse: my Sight decayes,
My Spirits faint, my Flesh consumes with care:
My Life is spent with griefe, in sighes my Dayes;
My Strength through Sin dissolves, my Bones impare.

To all my Foes I am become a scorne;
Nor least to those, who seem'd in love most neare:
By all my late familiar friends forlorne;
Who when they meet me, turne aside for feare.

Forgot like those, who in the Grave abide,
And, as a broken vessell, past repaire:
Traduc'd by many, (feare on everyside)
Who counsell take, and would my life insnare.

But, Lord, my Hopes are on thee fixt: I said,
Thou art my God; my Dayes are in thy Hand:
Against my furious Foes oppose thy Aid;
And those, who persecute my Soule, withstand.

O let thy Face upon thy Servant shine;
Save for thy Mercies sake; from Shame defend.
Shame cover those who keepe no Lawes of thine;
And undeplored to the Grave descend.

The lying lips in endlesse silence close,
That with despite and pride traduce the Just.
What Joy hast thou reserv'd! what wrought for those,
(In sight of all) who feare, and in Thee trust!

Those shalt Thou in thy secret Presence hide
From their Oppressors violence and wrongs;
They in thy close Pavilion shall abide,
Secured from the strife of envious Tongues.

Blest he! who in a walled Citie hath
To me his wonderfull Affection showne.
I rashly sayd, I am the food of Wrath;
Cut off; for ever from his Presence throwne.

Yet thou, O ever blessed, heardst my Prayer,
When to thy Mercie I addrest my Cry.
O love the living Lord, all you that are
His chosen Saints, and on his Aid relie:

For he the Faithfull ever will preserve;
And render to the Proud their full deserts.
Couragious be all you, who hope, and serve
The Lord of life, who will confirme your hearts.