God's care of his people. My trust is in my heav'nly Friend, My hope in thee, my God; Rise, and my helpless life defend From those that seek my blood. |
With insolence and fury they My soul in pieces tear, As hungry lions rend the prey, When no deliverer's near. |
If I had e'er provoked them first, Or once abused my foe, Then let him tread my life to dust, And lay mine honor low. |
If there be malice found in me, I know thy piercing eyes; I should not dare appeal to thee, Nor ask my God to rise. |
Arise, my God, lift up thy hand, Their pride and power control; Awake to judgment, and command Deliverance for my soul. |
[Let sinners, and their wicked rage, Be humbled to the dust; Shall not the God of truth engage To vindicate the just? |
He knows the heart, he tries the reins, He will defend th' upright His sharpest arrows he ordains Against the sons of spite. |
For me their malice digged a pit, But there themselves are cast; My God makes all their mischief light On their own heads at last.] |
That cruel, persecuting race Must feel his dreadful sword: Awake, my soul, and praise the grace And justice of the Lord. |
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