Psalm 28 (Ad te, Domine)

To thee, Lord, my cry I send;
O my strength, stopp not thine eare:
Least if answeare thou forbeare,
I be like them that descend
To the pitt, where flesh doth end.

Therefore while that I may cry,
While I that way hold my handes
Where thy sanctuary standes,
To thy self those wordes apply,
Which from suing voice do fly.

Linck not me in selfsame chaine
With the wicked working folk;
Who their spotted thoughtes to cloak,
Neighbours friendly entertaine,
When in hartes they malice meane.

Spare not them, give them reward,
As their deedes have purchas'd it,
As deserves their wicked witt:
Fare they as their handes have far'd,
Ev'n so be their guerdon shar'd.

To thy workes they give no ey;
Lett them be thrown down by thee:
Lett them not restored be.
But lett me give praises high
To the Lord, that heares my cry.

That God is my strength, my shield:
All my trust on him was sett,
And soe I did safetie gett:
Soe shall I with joy be fil'd,
Soe my songes his laudes shall yeeld.

God on them his strength doth lay,
Who his anointed helped have;
Lord, then still thy people save;
Blesse thine heritage, I say,
Feede and lift them up for ay.