Psalm 129

OFt they (may Israel now say)
me from my youth assail'd,
Oft they assail'd me from my youth,
but never they prevail'd.
Upon my back the plowers plow'd,
and furrows long did cast,
The righteous Lord hath cut the coards
of wicked men at last.

O let them all confounded be
and forced back to fly,
That do to Zion hatred bear
and cursed enmity.
Let these be like the grass, which we
on the house tops do see,
Which fades and dries away before
grown up it fully bee.

Whereof the mower cannot finde
enough to fill his hand,
Nor can the man his bosome fill
that puts the sheaves in band.
Neither do they say that pass by,
upon you blessing be
From God the Lord; and in the name
of God bless you do we.