Psalm 79

O Lord, the Heathen do invade
thine heritage, by them
Thy Temple is defil'd, on heaps
they lay Jerusalem.
The bodies of thy Saints they give
to fowls of th'air for meat,
The flesh of all thy servants dear
to the wilde beasts to eat.

Like water they have spilt their bloud
about Jerusalem,
As for their bodies there is none
takes care to bury them.
To all our neighbours bordering neer,
a vile reproach are we,
A scorn and mocking stock to those
that round about us be.

How long, O Lord, for evermore
shall thus thine anger last?
And shall thy burning jealousie
like fire devour and waste?
Upon the Heathen pour thy wrath
that have not known thy name,
And on the Kingdomes all that have
not call'd upon the same.

Thy servant Jacob they have now
devoured and destroi'd,
His habitations they have
wholly laid waste and void.
O now forget our former sins,
and us prevent in haste
With tender mercies, for we now
down very low are cast.

For th'honour of thy holy name,
our Saviour us relieve,
And for thy names sake purge away
our sins, and them forgive.
Why should the Heathen say, where is
their God? let him be known
Among them, by revenging of
the bloud-shed of his own.

Ev'n in our sight, of prisoners
receive the sighs and cry,
By thy great power preserve such as
appointed are to die.
Into their bosomes seven fold
to our neighbours, repay
Those vile reproaches, Lord, wherewith
they lade thee day by day.

So we thy folk and pasture sheep,
will give thanks unto thee
For ever, and shew forth thy praise
to all posterity.