When I To Thee My Prayer Make
When I to thee my prayer make,
Lord, to my voice give ear;
My life save from the enemy,
of whom I stand in fear.
Me from their secret counsel hide
who do live wickedly;
From insurrection of those men
that work iniquity:
Who do their tongues with malice whet,
and make them cut like swords;
In whose bent bows are arrows set,
ev’n sharp and bitter words:
That they may at the perfect man
in secret aim their shot;
Yea, suddenly they dare at him
to shoot, and fear it not.
In ill encourage they themselves,
and their snares close do lay:
Together conference they have;
Who shall them see? they say.
They have search’d out iniquities,
a perfect search they keep:
Of each of them the inward thought,
and very heart, is deep.
God shall an arrow shoot at them,
and wound them suddenly:
So their own tongue shall them confound;
all who them see shall fly.
And on all men a fear shall fall,
God’s works they shall declare;
For they shall wisely notice take
what these his doings are.
In God the righteous shall rejoice,
and trust upon his might;
Yea, they shall greatly glory all
in heart that are upright.