To thee I'll cry, O Lord, my rock

1 To thee I'll cry, O Lord, my rock;
hold not thy peace to me;
Lest like those that to pit descend
I by thy silence be.
2 The voice hear of my humble prayers,
when unto thee I cry;
When to thine holy oracle
I lift mine hands on high.

3 With ill men draw me not away
that work iniquity;
That speak peace to their friends, while in
their hearts doth mischief lie.
4 Give them according to their deeds
and ills endeavorèd:
And as their handy-works deserve,
to them be renderèd.

5 God shall not build, but them destroy,
who would not understand
The Lord's own works, nor did regard
the doing of his hand.
6 For ever blessèd be the Lord,
for graciously he heard
The voice of my petïtions,
and prayèrs did regard.

7 The Lord's my strength and shield; my heart
upon him did rely;
And I am helpèd: hence my heart
doth joy exceedingly,
And with my song I will him praise.
8 Their strength is God alone:
He also is the saving strength
of his anointed one.

9 O thine own people do thou save,
bless thine inheritance;
Them also do thou feed, and them
for evermore advance.

Source: Foundations Psalter: 1650 Scottish Psalter #28