Psalm 129

Many a time, may Israel say.
My foes have furiously assail'd,
And vex'd me from my natal day,
But never, never yet prevail'd;
Nor could the gates of hell o'erthrow
The church on Jesus built below.

The ploughers plough'd upon my back
Till all my body was one wound.
Nor could they the foundation shake;
A seed, a remnant, still was found.
Preserved by their almighty Lord,
Kept by His everlasting word.

The Lord, the righteous Lord and true.
Turn'd our captivity again,
The cords of wickedness broke through.
And burst the dire oppressors' chain:
And still who Sioti hate shall fly.
And stumble, and for ever die.

As grass on the house-top decays,
Nor ever fills the mower's breast,
But withers in a moment's space.
And perishes unreap'd, unbless'd;
So shall the foes of Sion fade,
And vanish as a fleeting shade.