He shall them take away before your pots the thorns can find, Both living, and in fury great, as with a stormy wind.
Like bees they compass'd me about; like unto thorns that flame They quenched are: for them shall I destroy in God's own name.
But thou, O Lord my God, those men in justice shalt o'erthrow, And in destruction's dungeon dark at last shalt lay them low: The bloody and deceitful men shall not live half their days: But upon thee with confidence I will depend always.
His ways they always grievous are; thy judgments from his sight Removed are: at all his foes he puffeth with despight.
The wicked in his loftiness doth persecute the poor: In these devices they have fram'd let them be taken sure.