Preserve me, Lord, from crafty Foes, Of base and treacherous intent

Verse 1

Preserve me, Lord, from crafty foes Of base and treacherous intent; And from the sons of violence, On strive and open mischief bent.

Verse 2

Their sland'ring tongue the serpent's sting, Though keen, in sharpness does exceed: Between their lips the gall of asps And adder's mortal venom breed.

Verse 3

Preserve me, Lord, from wicked hands, Nor leave my helpless soul forlorn, A prey to sons of violence, Who have my utter ruin sworn.

Verse 4

The proud for me have laid their snare, And spread abroad their wily net; With traps and gins, where e'er I move, I find my dang'rous steps beset.

Verse 5

But thus, environ'd with distress, Thou art my only God, I said; LORD, hear my supplicating voice, That calls to thee for aid.

Verse 6

O LORD, the GOD, whose saving strength, Kind succour did to me convey; And cover'd my advent'rous head, In the fierce battle's doubtful day.

Verse 7

Permit not their unjust designs To answer their base heart's desire; Lest they, encourag'd by success, Should yet to bolder crimes aspire.

Verse 8

First shall their chiefs the sad effects Of their unjust oppression mourn; The blast of their envenom'd breath, Thou wilt upon themselves return.

Verse 9

They too, who kindled first the flame, Shall first it's sacrifice become; The pit which they design'd for me, Be made their own untimely tomb.

Verse 10

Though sland'rer's breath may raise a storm, That fleeting breath will quick decay; Their rage does but the torrent swell, That bears themselves by force away.

Verse 11

GOD will assert the poor man's cause, And speedy help and succour give; The just shall celebrate his praise, And in his presence ever live.