Let me not be asham'd, O Lord, for on thee call'd I have: Let wicked men be sham'd, let them be silent in the grave.
The dead, nor who to silence go, God's praise do not record.
Sham'd and confounded be they all that at my hurt are glad; Let those against me that do boast with shame and scorn be clad.
They look'd to him, and lighten'd were: not shamed were their faces.
Unless the Lord had been my help when I was sore opprest, Almost my soul had in the house of silence been at rest.
My tongue thy justice shall proclaim, continuing all day long; For they confounded are, and sham'd, that seek to do me wrong.
Let them confounded be and sham'd that for my soul have sought: Who plot my hurt turn'd back be they, and to confusion brought.
In thee, O Lord, I put my trust, sham'd let me never be; According to thy righteousness do thou deliver me.
Sham'd and sore vex'd be all my foes, Sham'd and back turned suddenly.
Upon my heart, bestow'd by thee, more gladness I have found Than they, ev'n then, when corn and wine did most with them abound.
O Lord of hosts, almighty God, how long shall kindled be Thy wrath against the prayer made by thine own folk to thee?
A vine from Egypt brought thou hast, by thine outstretched hand; And thou the heathen out didst cast, to plant it in their land.