Psalm 63

To Thee, O God, my God, I pray,
Before the dawning of the Day.
My Soule and wasting flesh,
With thirsty Ardor Thee desire,
In Soiles scorcht with aethereall Fire,
Whose drought no showres refresh:

That in thy Sanctuary I
May see thy Power and Majesty,
Once more with ravisht eyes:
My lips shall celebrate thy Praise;
Thy Goodnesse, more then length of daies,
Or life it selfe, I prise.

Extoll'd while I have utterance:
To Thee will I my Palmes advance;
That wilt with marrow feast.
My Verse thy Wonders shall recite;
Remembred in the silent Night,
As on my Bed I rest.

Secur'd beneath thy shady Wing,
I will in sacred Raptures sing;
And to thy Promise cleave.
Thy Hand upholds; but who with hate
My Soule seeke to precipitate
Hels entrails shall receive.

The raging Sword shall shed their blood;
A prey for Wolves; for Foxes, food.
Yet God his King shall blesse;
And such as sweare by his great Name:
But those, whose Tongues the Just defame,
Confusion shall suppresse.