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 prey
When no deliv'rer’s near.

3 If e'er my pride 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 found 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 power controul;
Awake to judgement, 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 tries the reins,
He will defend th' upright:
His sharpest arrows he ordains
Against the sons of spight.

8 Though leagu'd in guile their malice spread
A snare before my way,
Their mischiefs on their impious head
His vengeance shall repay.]

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