Psalm 41

Who duly shall the Poore regard,
Hath his Reward:
The Lord in time of Trouble, shall
Prevent his fall:
He shall among the Living rest,
And with the Earths increase be blest.

Lord, render him not up to those,
Who are his Foes:
When he in sorrow languisheth,
Neere unto Death;
Let him by Thee be comforted,
And in his Sicknesse make his bed.

I said, O Lord, thy Mercy show,
And Health bestow:
For O! my Soule the lothsome staines
Of Sin retaines.
My Foes have said, When shall he die,
And yet out-live his Memory?

If any visit, they devise
Deceitfull Lies:
Their hollow Hearts with Mischiefe load,
Divulg'd abroad:
Who hate me, whisper, and contrive,
How they may swallow me alive.

Behold, say they, this Punishment
From Heaven is sent:
He, from the bed whereon he lies,
Shall never rise.
Yea, even my Friend, my Confident,
My Guest, his heele against me bent.

But, Lord, thy Mercy I implore;
My Health restore:
O raise me! that forthwith I may
Their Hate repay.
In this thy Love thou dost expresse,
That none triumph in my distresse.

For thou art of my Innocence
The strong Defence.
I shall, inlightned by thy Grace,
Behold thy Face.
Jehovah, Israels God, be blest;
While Day and Night the World invest.