Psalm 44 (Deus, auribus)

Lorde, our fathers true relation
Often made, hath made us knowe
How thy power, on each occasion,
Thou of old, for them did showe.
How thy hand the Pagan foe
Rooting hence, thy folke implanting,
Leavelesse made that braunch to growe,
This to spring, noe verdure wanting.

Never could their sword procure them
Conquest of the promis'd land:
Never could their force assure them
When they did in danger stand.
Noe, it was thy arme, thy hand;
Noe, it was thy favors treasure
Spent upon thy loved band:
Loved, why? for thy wise pleasure.

Unto thee stand I subjected,
I that did of Jacob spring:
Bid then that I be protected,
Thou that art my God, my king:
By that succour thou didst bring,
We their pride that us assailed,
Downe did tread, and back did fling,
In thy name confus'd and quailed.

For my trust was not reposed
In my owne, though strongest bowe:
Nor my scabberd held enclosed
That, whence should my saftie flowe.
Thou, O God, from every foe
Didst us shield, our haters shaming:
Thence thy dailie praise we showe,
Still thy name with honor naming.

But aloofe thou now dost hover
Grieving us with all disgrace:
Hast resign'd, and given over
In our campe thy Captaines place.
Back we turne, that turned face,
Flieng them, that erst wee foiled:
See, our goods (O changed case,)
Spoil'd by them, that late we spoiled.

Right as sheepe to be devowred,
Helplesse heere we lie alone:
Scattringlie by thee out powred,
Slaves to dwell with lords unknown.
Sold wee are, but silver none
Told for us: by thee so prised,
As for nought to bee forgone;
Gracelesse, worthlesse, vile, despised.

By them all that dwell about us,
Tost we flie as balls of scorne,
All our neighbours laugh and flout us,
Men by thee in shame forlorne.
Proverb-like our name is worn,
Oh, how fast in foraine places!
What head shakings are forborne!
Wordlesse taunts and dumbe disgraces.

Soe rebuke before me goeth,
As my self doe daily goe:
Soe confusion on me groweth,
That my face I blush to show.
By reviling slaundring foe
Inly wounded thus I languish:
Wrathful spight with outward blow
Anguish adds to inward anguish.

All, this all on us hath lighted,
Yet to thee our love doth last:
As we were, we are delighted
Still to hold thy cov'nant fast.
Unto none our hartes have past:
Unto none our feete have slidden,
Though us downe to dragons cast
Thou in deadly shade hast hidden.

If our God wee had forsaken,
Or forgott what he assign'd,
If our selves we had betaken
Gods to serve of other kind.
Should not he our doubling find,
Though conceal'd, and closelie lurking?
Since his eye of deepest minde
Deeper sincks then deepest working.

Surelie, Lord, this daily murther
For thie sake we thus sustaine:
For thy sake esteem'd no further
Then as sheepe that must be slaine.
Up, O Lord, up once againe,
Sleepe not ever, slack not ever:
Why dost thou forget our paine?
Why to hid thy face perserver?

Heavie grief our soule abaseth,
Prostrate it on dust doth lie:
Earth our bodie fast embraceth,
Nothing can the claspe untie.
Rise, and us with helpe supplie;
Lord, in mercie soe esteeme us,
That we may thy mercie trie,
Mercie may from thrall redeeme us.