To Thee Ill Cry O Lord My Rock


To thee I’ll cry, O Lord, my rock;
hold not thy peace to me;
Lest like those that to pit descend
I by thy silence be.

The voice hear of my humble pray’rs,
when unto thee I cry;
When to thine holy oracle
I lift mine hands on high.

With ill men draw me not away
that work iniquity;
That speak peace to their friends, while in
their hearts doth mischief lie.

Give them according to their deeds
and ills endeavoured:
And as their handy-works deserve,
to them be rendered.

God shall not build, but them destroy,
who would not understand
The Lord’s own works, nor did regard
the doing of his hand.

For ever blessed be the Lord,
for graciously he heard
The voice of my petitions,
and prayers did regard.

The Lord’s my strength and shield; my heart
upon him did rely;
And I am helped: hence my heart
doth joy exceedingly,

And with my song I will him praise.
Their strength is God alone:
He also is the saving strength
of his anointed one.

O thine own people do thou save,
bless thine inheritance;
Them also do thou feed, and them
for evermore advance.