How long take counsel in my soul, still sad in heart, shall I? How long exalted over me Shall be mine enemy?
Of death the cords and sorrows did about me compass round; The pains of hell took hold on me, I grief and trouble found.
That th' enemy reproached hath, O keep it in record; And that the foolish people have blasphem'd thy name, O Lord.
How long, Lord, shall the enemy thus in reproach exclaim? And shall the adversary thus always blaspheme thy name?
My soul is poured out in me, when this I think upon; Because that with the multitude I heretofore had gone: With them into God's house I went, with voice of joy and praise; Yea, with the multitude that kept the solemn holy days.
To silence put the lying lips, that grievous things do say, And hard reports, in pride and scorn, on righteous men do lay.
From lewd oppressors, compassing me round, as deadly foes.
To judge the fatherless, and those that are oppressed sore; That man, that is but sprung of earth, may them oppress no more.
O en'my! now destructions have an end perpetual: Thou cities raz'd; perish'd with them is their memorial.
From infants' and from sucklings' mouth thou didest strength ordain, For thy foes' cause, that so thou might'st th' avenging foe restrain.
Lest that the enemy my soul should, like a lion, tear, In pieces rending it, while there is no deliverer.
For I am near to halt, my grief is still before mine eye:
Return, O Lord, my soul set free; O save me, for thy mercies' sake.