Psalm 62 (Nonne Deo)

Yet shall my soule in silence still
On God, my help, attentive stay:
Yet he my fort, my health, my hill,
Remove I may not, move I may.
How long then shall your fruitlesse will
An enemy soe farr from thrall,
With weake endevor strive to kill,
Yon rotten hedge, you broken wall?

Forsooth that hee no more may rise
Advaunced oft to throne and crown;
To headlong him their thoughtes devise,
And past reliefe to tread him down.
Their love is only love of lies:
Their wordes, and deedes, dissenting soe,
When from their lippes most blessing flyes,
Then deepest curse in hart doth grow.

Yet shall my soule in silence still
On God my hope attentive stay:
Yet hee my fort, my health, my hill,
Remove I may not, move I may.
My God doth me with glory fill,
Not only shield me safe from harme:
To shun distresse, to conquer ill,
To him I clime, in him I arme.

O then, on God, our certaine stay,
All people in all times rely:
Your hartes before him naked lay,
To Adams sonnes tis vain to fly,
Soe vain, soe false, soe fraile are they,
Ev'n he that seemeth most of might
With lightnesse self if him you weigh,
Then lightnesse self will weigh more light.

In fraud and force noe trust repose:
Such idle hopes from thought expell,
And take good heed, when riches growes
Let not your hart on riches dwell.
All powre is Gods, his own word showes,
Once said by him, twice heard by me:
Yet from thee, Lord, all mercy flowes,
And each mans work is paid by thee.