Psalm 62

STill wait thou, oh my Soul, on God;
For, he my helpe doth prove,
My Rock, my Garde, my Safe-abode;
Whence, none cann mee remove.
Those, therfor, who conspire my fall,
His Blade shall root from hence,
And, shake them like a rotten wall,
Or, like a broken fence.

They seek my shame; They lies commend:
And hate when faire they speake. Selah.
My Soul, therfore, on God attend;
Thy hope, him only make.
For, God (my strength, my healp, my sort)
From harme will succour mee:
My praise, my garde, my firme support,
And my sole trust, is hee.

In God, yee people, alwaies hope;
To him, your harts declare:
For, he will prove a certaine propp,
When men deceitfull are. Selah.
Men high & lowe, are lesse in weight,
Then things that are most vile:
Trust not therfore, nor take delight,
In wealth, in wrongs, or guile.

For, once God said, & oft I heard,
That, God (both strong & kinde)
On all men, will bestowe reward,
As he, desert shall finde.