Psalm 57 (Miserere mei, Deus)

Thy mercie Lord, Lord now thy mercy show,
On thee I ly,
To thee I fly,
Hide me, hive me as thine owne
Till these blasts be overblown,
Which now doe fiercely blow.

To highest God I will erect my cry,
Who quickly shall
Dispatch this all.
Hee shall from Heaven send,
From disgrace me to defend,
His love and verity.

My soule incaged lyes with lions brood,
Villains whose hands
Are fierie brands,
Teeth more sharp then shaft or speare,
Tongues farr better edge do beare
Then swords to shed my bloud.

As high as highest heav'n can give thee place,
O Lord ascend,
And thence extend
With most bright, most glorious show,
Over all the earth below,
The sun-beames of thy face.

Me to entangle ev'ry waie they goe
Their trapp and nett
Is readie sett.
Holes they digg, but their own holes
Pitfalls make for their own soules:
Soe, Lord, O serve them soe.

My hart prepar'd, prepared is my hart,
To spread thy praise
With tuned laies:
Wake my tongue, my lute awake,
Thou my harp the consort make,
My self will beare a part.

My self when first the morning shall appeare,
With voice and string
Soe will thee sing:
That this earthly globe, and all
Treading on this earthly ball,
My praising notes shall heare.

For God, my only God, thy gracious love
Is mounted far
Above each star;
Thy unchanged verity
Heav'nly wings doe lift as hie
As cloudes have roome to move.

As high as highest heav'n can give thee place,
O Lord ascend,
And thence extend,
With most bright, most glorious show,
Over all the earth below,
The sun-beames of thy face.