Words: Brady and Tate, A New Version of the Psalms of David
1 Lord hear my pray'r, and to my cry thy wonted audience lend; In thy accustomed faith and truth a gracious answer send.
2 Nor at thy strict tribunal bring thy servant to be tried; For in thy sight no living man can e'er be justified.
3 The spiteful foe pursues my life, whose comforts all are fled; He drives me into caves as dark as mansions of the dead.
4 My spirit therefore is o'erwhelmed, and sinks within my breast; My mournful heart grows desolate, with heavy woes oppressed.
5 I call to mind the days of old, and wonders thou hast wrought: My former dangers and escapes employ my musing thought.
6 To thee my hands in humble pray'r I fervently stretch out; My soul for thy refreshment thirsts, like land oppressed with drought,
7 Hear me with speed; my spirit fails; thy face no longer hide, Lest I become forlorn, like them that in the grave reside.
8 Thy kindness early let me hear, whose trust on thee depends; Teach me the way where I should go; my soul to thee ascends.
9 Do thou, O Lord, from all my foes preserve and set me free; A safe retreat against their rage my soul implores from thee.
10 Thou art my God, thy righteous will instruct me to obey; Let thy good Spirit lead and keep my soul in thy right way.
11 O! for the sake of thy great name, revive my drooping heart; For thy truth's sake, to me, distressed, thy promised aid impart.
12 In pity to my suff'rings, Lord, reduce my foes to shame; Slay them that persecute a soul devoted to thy name.