Words: Brady and Tate, A New Version of the Psalms of David
1 Lord, to my relief draw near, for never was more pressing need; For my deliv'rance, Lord, appear, and add to that deliv'rance speed. 2 Confusion on their heads return, who to destroy my soul combine; Let them, defeated, blush and mourn, ensnared in their own vile design. 3 Their doom let desolation be, with shame their malice be repaid, Who mocked my confidence in thee, and sport of my affliction made. 4 While those, who humbly seek thy face, to joyful triumph shall be raised, And all, who prize thy saving grace, with me shall sing, The Lord be praised! 5 Thus wretched though I am and poor, the mighty Lord of me takes care; Thou, God, who only canst restore, to my relief with speed repair.