1 O Lord, unto my voice give ear,
when I complain and pray,
And rid my life and soul from fear
of foes, that threat to slay:

2 Defend me from that sort of men,
who in deceit do lurk,
And from the frowning face of them,
who all ill feats do work;

3 Who whet their tongues as we have seen
men whet and sharp their swords,
And shoot abroad their arrows keen,
I mean most bitter words:

4 They privily do shoot their shaft
the upright man to hit;
The innocent to strike by craft
they care or fear no whit.

5 A wicked work they have decreed,
in council thus they cry
To use deceit let us not dread,
for none can it espy.

6 Which way 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 prevail,
when they think least thereon,
God with his dart shall sure assail,
and wound them every one:

8 Their crafts and their ill tongues withal
shall work themselves such blame,
That they who then behold their fall
shall wonder at the same:

9 And all that see shall know right well,
that God the thing hath wrought,
And praise his wond'rous 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 hearts are pure and right.