- O Lord, unto my voice give ear,
- with ‘plaints when I do pray:
- And rid my life and soul from dread,
- of foes that threat to slay.
-
- 2 Defend me from that sort of men,
- which in deceits do lurk,
- And from the frowning face of them,
- that all ill feats do work.
-
- 3 Who whet their tongues as we have seen
- men whet and sharp their swords:
- They shoot abroad their arrows keen,
- I mean most bitter words.
-
- 4 With privy sleights shoot they their shafts,
- the upright man to hit:
- The just un’ware to hit by craft,
- they care of fear no whit.
-
- 5 A wicked work they have decreed,
- in counsel thus they cry:
- To use deceit let us not dread,
- what? who can it espy?
-
- 6 What ways to hurt they talk and muse,
- all times within their heart:
- They all consult what feats to use,
- each doth invent his part.
-
- 7 But yet all this shall not avail,
- when they think least upon:
- God with his dart shall sure assault,
- and wound them very one.
-
- 8 Their crafts and their ill tongues withal,
- shall work themselves such blame:
- That they which then behold their fall,
- shall wonder at the same.
-
- 9 Then all that see shall know right well,
- that God the thing hath wrought:
- And praise his witty works, and tell
- what he to pass hath brought.
-
- 10 Yet shall the just in God rejoice,
- still trusting in his might:
- So shall they joy with mind and voice,
- whose heart is pure and right.
