PSAL. 3. Aug. 9. 1653.
When he fled from Absalom.
Lord, how many are my foes!
How many those
That in arms against me rise!
Many are they [ 5 ]
That of my life distrustfully thus say,
No help for him in God there lies.
But thou, Lord, art my shield, my glory,
Thee through my story
Th' exalter of my head I count, [ 10 ]
Aloud I cried
Unto Jehovah, he full soon reply'd
And heard me from his holy mount.
I lay and slept, I wak'd again,
For my sustain [ 15 ]
Was the Lord. Of many millions
The populous rout
I fear not though encamping round about
They pitch against me their Pavillions.
Rise Lord, save me my God, for thou [ 20 ]
Hast smote ere now
On the cheek-bone all my foes,
Of men abhor'd
Hast broke the teeth. This help was from the Lord;
Thy blessing on thy people flows. [ 25 ]