O God Give Ear And Do Apply
O God, give ear, and speedily
hear me, when I do pray,
And when to thee I call and cry,
hide not thyself away:
Take heed to me, grant my request,
and answer me again;
With grief I pray, full sore opprest,
sorrow doth me constrain.
Because my foes with threats and cries
oppress me thro’ despite,
And so the wicked sort likewise
to vex me take delight.
For they in council do conspire
to charge me with some ill,
And in their hasty wrath and ire
they do pursue me still.
My heart doth faint for want of breath,
it panteth in my breast;
With terror and the dread of death
my soul is much opprest:
Such dreadful fear on me doth fall,
that I therewith do quake;
Such horror overwhelmeth me,
that I no shift can make.
Oh that I had wings like a dove!
then would I swiftly flee
Away from hence unto a place
where I at rest should be:
Lo, then I would go far away,
to fly I would not cease,
And I would hide myself, and stay
in some great wilderness;
I would be gone with speed and haste,
and not abide behind,
Till I had safely over-past
these blasts of boist’rous wind.
Divide them, Lord, and from them pull
their false and double tongue;
For I have spy’d their city full
of rapine, strife, and wrong.
Both day and night they go about
within the city wall,
In midst of her is mischief wrought,
and sorrow great withal:
Her inward parts are wicked plain,
her deeds they are most vile,
And in her streets there doth remain
nothing but fraud and guile,
The Second Part.
If that my foes did seek my shame,
I might it well abide,
Because from all their check and blame
somewhere I could me hide:
But thou it was, my fellow dear,
who friendship didst pretend,
And didst my secret counsel hear
as a familiar friend;
With whom I had delight to talk
in secret and abroad;
And we together oft did walk
unto the house of God.
Let death in haste upon them fall,
and send them quick to hell;
For mischief doth abide in all
the places, where they dwell.
But I unto my God will cry,
to him for aid I flee;
The Lord will help me speedily,
and he will succour me.
At morning, noon, and ev’ning-tide,
unto the Lord I pray;
When I so constantly have cry’d,
he did not say me nay.
To peace he shall restore me yet,
tho’ war be now at hand,
Altho’ the number be full great
that do against me stand.
The Lord that first and last doth reign,
both now and evermore,
Will hear, when I to him complain,
and punish them full sore.
For sure there is no hope that they
to turn will once accord;
For why? they will not God obey,
nor fear the living Lord
Upon their friends they laid their hands,
who were in cov’nant knit;
Of friendship to neglect the bands
they do not care one whit.
While they have war within their hearts
as butter are their words;
And tho’ they were as soft as oil,
they cut as sharp as swords.
Cast thou thy care upon the Lord,
and he shall nourish thee;
For in no wise will he accord
the just in thrall to see.
But God shall cast them deep in pit
who thirst for blood always;
He will no guileful man permit
to live out half his days.
Tho’ such be quite destroy’d and gone,
on him is all my stay;
I will depend his grace upon
with all my heart alway.