1 My trust is in my heav'nly friend,
My hope in thee, my GOD;
Rise, and my helpless life defend
From those that seek my blood.

2 With insolence and fury they,
My soul to pieces tear,
As hungry lions rend the pray,
When no deliv'rer’s near.

3 If I had e'er provok'd them first,
Or once abus'd my foe,
Then let them tread my life to dust,
And lay mine honor low.

4 If there be malice hid in me,
I know thy piercing eyes;
I should not dare appeal to thee,
Nor ask my GOD to rise.

5 Arise, my GOD, lift up thy hand,
Their pride and pow'r controul;
Awake to judgment, and command
Deliv'rance for my soul.

Pause.

6 [Let sinners and their wicked rage
Be humbled to the dust;
Shall not the God of truth engage
To vindicate the Just!

7 He knows the heart, he trys the reins,
He will defend the upright:
His sharpest arrows he ordains
Against the sons of spight.

8 For me their malice digg'd a pit,
But there themselves are cast;
My GOD makes all their mischief light
On their own heads at last.]

9 That cruel persecuting race
Must feel his dreadful sword;
Awake my soul, and praise the grace
And justice of the LORD.