Psalm 144

OH praise the Lord, for, he is all my Powre,
My hands & Armes, in warlike feats directing;
My grace, my gard, my sheild, my healp, my Towre,
My trusty freind, my foes to mee subiecting.
Lord, what is mā that thou art pleasd to know him?
Or what his child that thou sholdst favor show him?

Mā is as nought; his ioys like shades forsake him.
The heav'ns, oh Lord, decline, & down descēd thou
But touch, the Hils, & thou to smoke, shalt mak thē;
To scatter them, thy dreadfull lighting, send thou:
Shoot out thy shafts, vntill they be destroyed;
Let thy strong hand, to healp mee, be employed.

Oh save mee, from the water's over-swelling;
Let mee from forraigne Children be secured,
Whose mouthes, are alwaies lies & folly, telling,
And, whose righthands, to falshood, are envred.
Then, to thy praise, new songs, I will be singing,
On harp, & Psalt'ry of a tennfold stringing.

Let him, who doth on kings bestow salvation,
(And, from the sword, his servant David saveth)
Protect me frō that forraine generation,
Whose mouth speakes lies, & whose right-hand deceaveth
Who beg for sonns & daughters, in their prayer,
Like plants & pretious stones, welshap'd, & faire.

Who pray for Granards, fully stored ever.
Whos floks yong breed, evn in their streets aboundeth:
Whose wellfed Oxe, in labour, faileth never;
&, in whose Townes, nor cry, nor tumult soundeth.
For, tho such men a blessing have possessed;
Yet, they whose God's the Lord, are much more blessed.