Psalm 82 (Deus stetit)

Where poore men plead at princes barre,
Who gods (as God's vicegerents) are:
The God of gods hath his tribunall pight,
Adjudging right
Both to the judge, and judged wight.

How long will ye just doome neglect?
How long, saith he, bad men respect?
You should his owne unto the helplesse give,
The poore releeve,
Ease him with right, whom wrong doth greeve.

You should the fatherlesse defend:
You should unto the weake extend
Your hand, to loose and quiet his estate
Through lewd mens hate
Entangled now in deepe debate.

This should you doe: but what doe ye?
You nothing know, you nothing see:
No light, no law; fie, fie, the very ground
Becomes unsound,
Soe righte wrong, all your faultes confound.

Indeed to you the stile I gave
Of Gods, and sonnes of God, to have:
But err not, princes; you as men must dy:
You that sitt high
Must fall, and low as others ly.

Since men are such, O God, arise:
Thy self most strong, most just, most wise,
Of all the earth king, judge, disposer be;
Since to decree
Of all the earth belongs to thee.