PSAL. VII. Aug. 14. 1653

        Lord my God to thee I flie          Save me and secure me under          Thy protection while I crie          Least as a Lion (and no wonder)          He hast to tear my Soul asunder         Tearing and no rescue nigh.          Lord my God if I have thought          Or done this, if wickedness          Be in my hands, if I have wrought          Ill to him that meant me peace,          Or to him have render'd less,          And fre'd my foe for naught;          Let th'enemy pursue my soul          And overtake it, let him tread         My life down to the earth and roul          In the dust my glory dead,          In the dust and there out spread          Lodge it with dishonour foul.          Rise Jehovah in thine ire          Rouze thy self amidst the rage         Of my foes that urge like fire;          And wake for me, their furi' asswage;         Judgment here thou didst ingage          And command which I desire.         So th' assemblies of each Nation          Will surround thee, seeking right,          Thence to thy glorious habitation          Return on high and in their sight.          Jehovah judgeth most upright          All people from the worlds foundation.          Judge me Lord, be judge in this          According to my righteousness          And the innocence which is          Upon me: cause at length to cease          Of evil men the wickedness         And their power that do amiss.          But the just establish fast,          Since thou art the just God that tries          Hearts and reins. On God is cast          My defence, and in him lies          In him who both just and wise          Saves th' upright of Heart at last.         God is a just Judge and severe,         And God is every day offended;          If th' unjust will not forbear,          His Sword he whets, his Bow hath bended          Already, and for him intended          The tools of death, that waits him near.          (His arrows purposely made he          For them that persecute.) Behold          He travels big with vanitie,          Trouble he hath conceav'd of old          As in a womb, and from that mould          Hath at length brought forth a Lie.         He dig'd a pit, and delv'd it deep,          And fell into the pit he made,         His mischief that due course doth keep,          Turns on his head, and his ill trade         Of violence will undelay'd          Fall on his crown with ruine steep.          Then will I Jehovah's praise         According to his justice raise         And sing the Name and Deitie         Of Jehovah the most high.