To Thee O Lord I Cry Make Haste

To thee, O Lord, I cry,
Make haste, for me appear;
And when I call on thee for aid,
My voice, in mercy, hear.
Before thee, let my prayer,
As morning incense, rise;
The lifting up my hands accept,
As evening sacrifice.

Let, Lord, thy constant guard,
Before my mouth, attend;
And keep the door of my vain lips,
Lest rashly I offend.
Bow not my heart to ill;
Nor let me ever share,
With wicked men, in their bad deeds,
Nor, on their dainties fare.

Let just men’s kind reproof
Smite me, it shall not break
My head, but heal like balm; my prayer,
In their distress, I’ll make.

When cast into the rock,
Their chiefs lay at my feet,
Within my power; they heard my words;
But, Oh, how soft! how sweet!

Our bones about the graves,
Lie scattered all around;
As when one ploweth up the earth,
And teareth up the ground.
But, Lord, my God, to thee,
Directed are mine eyes;
Let not my soul be naked lest;
My trust on thee relies.

O keep me from the snares,
Which they have laid for me;
And from the nets which they have spread,
Who work iniquity.
But let the wicked fall,
Together, in their net;
While I, o’er all, in safety pass.
And out of danger get.

A New Version of the Psalms of David,