O why art thou cast down, my soul? why, thus with grief opprest, Art thou disquieted in me? in God still hope and rest: For yet I know I shall him praise, who graciously to me The health is of my countenance, yea, mine own God is he.
The nations of Canaan, by his almighty hand, Before their face he did expel out of their native land; Which for inheritance to them by line he did divide, And made the tribes of Israel within their tents abide.