Psalm 3

My God, how are my foes increast!
What multitudes against me rise!
Who say, Give we his Soule no rest;
Whom God forsakes, and Men despise.
But thou art my Support, my Tower,
My Safetie, my choise Ornament.
Before thy Throne my Prayers I powre,
Heard from thy Sions high ascent.
No feares affright my soft repose;
Thou my Night-watch, my Guard by day:
Not Myriads of armed Foes,
Nor Treasons secret hands dismay.
Arise; ô vindicte my Cause!
My Foes, whom wicked Hate provoke,
Thou, Lord, hast smit their cancred jawes,
And all their teeth asunder broke.
Thou Lord, the onely Hope of those,
Who thee with holy Zeale adore;
Whose all-protecting Armes inclose
Their Safetie, who thy Aid implore.