Against a wicked race, O God

Verse 1

Against a wicked race, O God, plead thou my cause, judge me; from the unjust and crafty man O do thou set me free.

Verse 2

For thou the God art of my strength; why thrust me then away? And for the oppression of the foe why mourn I all the day?

Verse 3

O send thy light forth and thy truth; let them be guides to me, and bring me to thine holy hill, even where thy dwellings be.

Verse 4

Then will I to God's altar go, to God my chiefest joy yea, God, my God, thy name to praise my harp I will employ.

Verse 5

Why art thou then cast down, my soul? What should discourage thee? And why with vexing thoughts art thou disquieted in me? Still trust in God; for him to praise good cause I yet shall have: he of my countenance is the health, my God that doth me save.