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.